The Life and Times of Runner Five
by Stelladea
Summary: The outbreak is no longer a surprise. Thousands have turned to the creatures hovering between life and death, and now, the humans face the ultimate challenge: survival. The runners collect supplies and are vital to keeping the human race safe... but how long can they last? Follow Runner Five's adventures to make sure that no one gets killed... or turned.
1. Jolly Alpha Five Niner, Mission Log 1:1

( Welcome to _Runner Five_. As I have been playing the fitness app _Zombies, Run!_, I've felt the desperate need to write about it. My story is_ very_ loosely based on the game, however, so you do not need to have played it at all to understand what is going on or to enjoy it! On the other hand, fellow Runner Fives, I do include spoilers if you play. Otherwise, this will be a short, easy read, with small chapters and sporadic updates. I hope you enjoy!

-Stella )

* * *

Scrambling desperately away from the pile of twisted metal and spewing gas, the runner put as much distance as she could between herself and the crashed helicopter. Only moments before, the aircraft had been high in the sky, successfully steering toward Mullins Township with an abundance of medical kits. Now, the helicopter was nothing more than a gruesome, fallen bird, bits of metal shards strewn everywhere.

The runner's radio crackled to life. "Jolly Alpha Five Niner, Jolly Alpha Five Niner! This is Abel Township, do you come in?" A nervous, male voice.

"Roger that, I hear you," the runner croaked, the smoke from the helicopter filling her lungs, her heart racing. "The helicopter crashed! We—we were hit by some sort of rocket launcher!"

"A rocket launcher? Who still has _rocket launchers_ around here?" the man over the radio yelped. "And—and _you're_ alive! I can't believe it. Are you all right?"

"I—I'm not the pilot," she replied nervously, peering with trepidation into the cockpit and forcing down vomit. "She's dead."

"Good God," the man breathed. "Then—then who are you?"

"I'm a runner from Mullins," she replied. "I was helping to transport the medical supplies, but—but now…"

The runner's voice trailed off. She wouldn't survive through the day. Far from Mullins Township and hopelessly lost, she had no chance of making it back to home base, even if she refused to weigh herself down with medical supplies. Somehow, she suspected that Mullins wouldn't be too upset to be rid of her. She would be one less mouth to feed, and they had plenty of runners far more skilled and experienced than she was.

She had to find a place to hide soon, or she knew she would join the undead come nightfall.

"I won't make it back," she murmured in horror. "I'm too far."

"Listen, runner," the man on the line said. "I'm the Communications Operator here at Abel. You might not be able to make it back to Mullins, but you're not far from us. We're dead low on supplies over here, and if you can get some of those med kits to us, I'm sure we can let you stay for the night."

The runner jumped on the opportunity gladly. "Yes. yes, okay. I'll do it. There's no way in hell I want to be out here during nightfall."

"Then get to us ASAP," he replied seriously. "We have wounded here and need as many med kits as possible."

"Roger that," the runner replied, turning away from the helicopter. She tested her limbs, and, thankfully, nothing seemed to be broken. "Keep track of my position. I'll collect these and head toward your township if you can give me your coordinates."

The radio controller transmitted the location as the runner collected supplies and calculated how far away she was. She'd be able to make it by sundown… if she ran fast enough.

"What can I call you?" she asked, stuffing the medical kits into her utility belt. "'Communications Operator' is going to be a little hard to choke out if I'm getting attacked by the undead."

The radio controller chuckled. "Call me Sam."

"Copy that, Sam. I've collected all the medical kits I can for now and am heading toward Abel Township."

"Great. I'll track your position and make sure the zombies don't sneak up on you. Are you ready to head out?"

The runner looked closely through the trees and listened hard. She could hear no groans or dragging limbs.

"As ready as I can be."

"Copy that, runner. I have your location. Move out."


	2. Jolly Alpha Five Niner, Mission Log 1:2

Panting heavily, the runner managed to block the horde for the moment, locking herself in the hospital. The zombies groaned and scrabbled at the door, attempting to get to her, but she barred the doors securely and looked around the abandoned building.

"If you don't find it, we won't let you into Abel," a sharp voice warned through the radio, very different from Sam's anxious but welcoming tone. "You have to _earn_ your safety around here."

The runner growled silently and began hunting the hospital for the government item Dr. Myers had indicated. This woman had demanded that she take a detour from her trek to Abel and grab some Center for Disease Control box-file. The runner didn't deny that the information was important, but with a mass of zombies on her tail, the last thing she had wanted to do was lock herself in an unfamiliar, abandoned hospital. However, if her safety for the night depended on it, the runner was damn well sure she was going to find the document.

After digging in the office Dr. Myers had described, the runner found the box-file. It was a hard, rectangular object just small enough to fit on her utility belt. The letters CDC were printed across the government-approved stamp of authenticity. The runner tucked it safely in her belt, hoping that the box-file would have notes or any other information regarding the zombie virus. There was no cure, to be sure, but any new evidence that researchers found would be useful. The main communication towers had been dark for months, so information was a rarity. Inside the CDC box could be clues to the human race's success in this war.

"I found it," she said to the doctor.

"Good," Dr. Myers replied brusquely. "Guard that document with your life. You may come to Abel now."

After the doctor had left, the runner looked closely around the abandoned building before heading out into the open in the opposite direction from the zombie horde that had been following her at the other end of the hospital. Grabbing the CDC file had put her even farther behind schedule, but she still had time to make it to Abel.

"You know," Sam said thoughtfully through her radio again. "I think I'm going to call you Runner Five."

"Why's that?"

"Well… we don't have a Runner Five anymore," he replied uneasily.

"What happened to him?" the runner asked as she found the road leading to Abel.

"_She_—she's gone now," Sam sighed, his voice suddenly morose. "Runner Five was fabulous, she was. Strong, fast, and wicked clever. She was _amazing_. She and I…" He trailed off for a moment and then gulped, clearing his throat. "But she's gone now. And… and you can be the new Runner Five once you make it—" Sam stopped.

"What is it?"

"You've got a horde coming," he said quickly. "They know your position."

The runner's heart dropped as she picked up speed. "How far am I from Abel?"

"You're on the home stretch," Sam encouraged, though the runner could tell his voice was strained. "You're only two kilometers away, and—oh, no!" he breathed. "There's one zombie coming up behind you. It—it's Alice! The old Runner Five!" His breathing sped up. "You've got to outlive this, runner. You're almost home. Give it a burst of speed and beat her here!"


	3. Jolly Alpha Five Niner, Mission Log 1:3

"Mullins runner, do you copy?" A third voice cut through the radio signal coming from Abel Township.

"Yes!" she wheezed. The zombies were on her now, and she fought hard to stay ahead of them. She could hear the old Runner Five practically breathing down her neck.

"This is Runner Seven. You're almost at the gate. You only have a bit more to go, and we'll let you in."

The runner ducked her head down and dug her feet into the earth as she attempted to escape the old Runner Five, but she was losing steam fast.

"She's not going to make it," Runner Seven said urgently. "Snipers, take out the zombie in the front!"

"No!" Sam cried. "That's—that's Alice—"

The runner heard a sharp gunshot and a thud behind her; the old Runner Five was dead.

"It's what she would have wanted," Dr. Myers said gently, a kinder tone than the runner had heard before. "You know that, Sam."

Before she could hear anything else, the runner careened into the large metal gate labeled "Abel Township." The sound of clattering metal was never more welcome to the runner as Abel's doors slammed shut behind her.

She had not even had time to collect her thoughts before a swarm of people ran at her, all guns pointed at her heart. She stopped short, raising her hands into the air in immediate surrender, her eyes wide.

A built man with chocolate-brown skin approached the runner warily. "What happened to you? Why did that helo crash?" She recognized him as Runner Seven.

"I'm—I don't know," she squeaked nervously. "It was hit by some sort of rocket launcher, and—and here—" She showed them the medical kits hooked to her utility belt as well as the CDC box-file.

"A rocket launcher sounds impossible…" The man questioning her took the box and turned to a young but hard-faced woman wearing a lab coat.

"Is this it, Dr. Myers?" he asked her, glancing at the runner.

"Let me take a look." She stared as the doctor examined the files. Finally, she seemed satisfied. "Yes. This is it." She turned and left, clutching the CDC document.

Runner Seven waved his hands at the Abel citizens and the guns pointed at the runner instantly abated. He approached her, extending his hand with a smile.

"Thank you, runner," he said warmly. "I'm Evan Deaubl, Runner Seven. You've faced a lot of danger by yourself to get to us. And you even brought us medical supplies. We really need these."

The other people crowded around the runner, this time in curiosity rather than contempt. From every direction, the runner was hit with questions about her arrival, thanks for the supplies, and other things she didn't have enough ears to understand. She backed away some, starting to feel slightly suffocated.

"Hey!" came another familiar voice, pushing through the crowd. "Back away some, come on. Give her some space, give her some space! She can't take in all the new faces at once!"

Seven chuckled a little and instructed some of the other members of the community to deliver the med kits to the hospital. A tall young man with black hair and sharp, dark eyes broke through the crowd and approached her. "Runner Five! Knew you'd make it back alive. I'm Sam Yao! But I'm sure you recognized that already. Look at you! You look—well, you look terrible, actually—but you're alive, and you got all the supplies back. Sev, I made sure Five here got back in one piece."

The runner and Sam smiled and shook hands as Seven nodded approvingly.

"Made a friend, I see," he said amusedly. "And already she's the new Runner Five?"

Sam's smile faltered. "We need another runner, and here she is. So… so she can be Five now that we have her."

Seven shrugged. "That sounds good to me," he said. "Why don't we get you some clean clothes and I'll show you around?" he suggested. "You've got to know where you're staying if you're going to be around for a while."


	4. Lay of the Land, Mission Log 2:1

Both the male and the female residence buildings were arranged in the same fashion: as one large room, with multiple bunks lining the walls next to small windows. Seven had shown Five to an empty bed and informed her, to her delight, that she could call the space hers.

The Abel citizens generously donated Five some spare articles of clothing as well. After taking a fast, cold shower, she changed quickly, pulling on shorts of a comfortable, polyester-khaki hybrid. Next, she slipped on a black spandex mid-sleeved shirt. This was the common uniform of the runners and close to what she was used to wearing at Mullins. Thankfully, the articles of clothing were clean (though they seemed used).

Five wondered vaguely if this had been the old Runner Five's uniform as she attached her own utility belt around her hips and retied her running shoes over thick new socks. She exited the housing area and joined Seven, who was waiting for her outside.

"Does that all fit?" he asked. She nodded and he smiled again. "Good. Let's go outside the gates and I'll show you the perimeter." Noticing her look of alarm, Seven laughed a deep chuckle. "Don't worry, Five. We've got snipers stationed all around. If any of the zombies decide to give us trouble, we'll be ready."

They exited Abel and began exploring the outskirts of the base, Seven allowing Five to take in all the new sights.

"See there, to the middle of Abel?" Seven said as they made their way around. "That's the Quad. It's actually a farmhouse, but it's got such a good view of the area it became the reason Abel was established. It's got good, thick walls, and we hold all our meetings there. It's a bit of a town hall, if you will."

The two runners passed by the hospital, food storage, recreation area (complete with rough asphalt basketball court), housing buildings, and armoury.

"Look out over there," Seven pointed to a small collection of far-off human bases. "That's New Canton. We don't speak to them much. And Scoobs there—you can see it's all burnt up now—used to be a small settlement, about our size. We don't know what happened to it. Must've been some sort of fire."

"That's terrible…"

"You know," Seven continued thoughtfully. "Some people here at Abel aren't too happy to have you here. Mullins has never been exactly honest with us."

Five sighed. "They're not even honest with their own citizens."

"I'm not going to lie to you—that worries me. I mean, just before Scoobs went up in flames, there was a Mullins guy sent over there, in a chopper just like you, but he only arrived with half the supplies he was supposed to. And then your fiasco happened… where were you headed on your trip, anyway?"

"Back to Mullins," Five replied. "We were going to get further orders when we got back. They wanted to check on the supplies we collected before we could deliver them anywhere else."

"I wish we knew more." Seven shook his head. "It's hard enough battling the undead when—what's that?"

Five peered down the hill and saw something sticking out of a tree's low-hanging branch, fluttering in the wind.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I can't see it very well."

"Why don't you go down there and grab it?" Seven suggested, observing the surrounding area carefully. "I'll watch you from here and make sure those zombs to the east don't sneak up on you."


	5. Lay of the Land, Mission Log 2:2

Five nodded in assent and started jogging down the hill, keeping a close eye on the approaching horde. It was far enough away that she didn't have to worry yet.

When she reached the tree, she pulled on the flapping tab and the object fell to the ground. Upon grabbing the item, Five recognized a newspaper article. With a quick glance at the still-far-off zombies, she jogged back up the hill and met with Seven, whose calm eyes were watching the group with no indication of worry.

"It's a government drop," Five said as they headed inside Abel Township. "Look."

She handed him the newspaper. The top said _Vermanen Times_ in bold letters, and, though it was dated from weeks before, the two runners read hungrily.

Three men were injured at some technological research building to the east in an odd fire. Three other mysterious fires happened at different biotechnology facilities in the area during the past year and a half or so. No arrests were made, though some groups were targeted as suspicious.

"What do you think this means?" Five asked, troubled. "Do you think the fires happened on purpose?"

"I don't know," Seven replied seriously. "I'll have to turn this in for everyone else to see. I haven't taken you up to the communications tower yet, though. You can visit it on your own if you want."

"Oh, all right," she responded. "As long as someone's up there…?"

Seven looked up at the sky. "Sam's still there about this time of day. I'm sure he'll be happy to give you a tour."

The two runners parted ways and Five approached the comms, entering the main tower carefully and climbing up the stairs. As she reached the door marked "Communications Operator," she knocked lightly. Sam opened the door, a bright smile spreading on his face.

"Runner Five!" he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I just was looking around Abel," she replied a little hesitantly. "Seven said you could show me the comms."

"Come on in," he replied, opening the door widely. Five stepped into his "office," a spacious, cube-like room lined with large, thick windows. Sam could see far beyond Abel from here; she spotted the zombie horde and human bases Seven had pointed out before.

Inside the tower room, two rolling chairs were vacant. "Take a seat," Sam suggested, gesturing to one of them.

Five sat thankfully; she had not had the opportunity to do so all day, and her legs ached all over.

"Do you work up here alone?" she asked, looking out over his control board. Numerous dials, buttons, and charts were spread across a complicated-looking dashboard, perfect for tracking radio signals and heat signatures.

Sam shrugged. "Sometimes," he said. "I'm the one who's up here the most. Sometimes some of the others come and help or watch, though." Sam plopped down into the seat beside Five, removing his headset and running his hands through his hair. "So, Five, how'd you end up in that helicopter crash?" he asked, his light tone betrayed by the tint of curiosity. "Pretty nasty business, that was."

Five sighed and crossed her legs in the chair. "Well, I was on a mission. We had a bunch of supplies we were flying overhead, and then we were just hit out of nowhere by that rocket launcher. I'm just glad Abel wasn't too far from the crash site."

"The Mullins guys didn't tell you much about us, did they?" Sam replied. "Nah, you don't have to answer. I know how Mullins works. They send teams out without informing them at all. I'm glad that's not the way it is around here."

Five cocked her head. "So how does it work around here?"

"Tell me, how long were you at Mullins?"

"Since the outbreak."

"And how many people could you trust there?"

Five paused. "None."

"Exactly! They're all built up on tension and rubbish like that. Here, we get along. We actually, you know, have friends."

"I'm starting to like it here," Five mused, looking through the glass all around Abel. "I don't really want to go back."

"You don't have to," Sam replied quietly. "We need good people here. Do you have a bo—people to go back to? Friends or family?"

Five shook her head. "They were turned in the first wave of the outbreak. I only escaped because of how close I was to Mullins."

Sam sighed, gazing at her with sympathy. "It's hard... we've all lost people."

Five glanced up at him, guilt suddenly weighing down on her chest. "I'm sorry, you know. About Alice."

Sam's jaw clenched slightly. "Like Seven always says, things like that happen these days. Getting attached always has its risks."

They were quiet for a moment, watching the somewhat-nearby horde with detached interest.

"Why did you do it?" Five asked suddenly.

"Why'd I do what?"

"Why call me Runner Five if it would remind you of her?"

Sam shrugged. "It's the name that was available. And... I think you can live up to it." He flashed a half smile. "As long as you don't decide you want to kill me and eat my brains too."

Five chuckled. "I'll let you know if I have a change of heart."


	6. Distraction, Mission Log 3:1

"This is an emergency! We need Runners Three, Five and Eight at the main gate immediately!"

Five perked up, hearing Runner Seven call her from the loudspeakers. Looking out the window next to her bunk and peering toward the main gate, she saw it was wide open. She frowned, flicking on her radio.

"Five!" Sam called instantly. "We need you ready to go right now! The gate is stuck open! The zombies could stroll right in if they wanted to!"

"How did that happen?" she asked worriedly, tying her shoes tightly and heading toward the main gate.

"I just lifted it for Runner Two!" the radio operator replied, mortified. "I swear it wasn't my fault. It just got stuck!"

Five reached the open gate in no time, and a young woman with a mousy brown bob approached her. "Runner Five, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'm Sara Smith," she replied back, shaking Five's hand firmly. "Runner Eight."

Sam must have seen the two women together from the comms tower. "Five, we're pairing you up with Eight on this mission. You two go out and help us distract the zombies, all right? Take a noisemaker and get them as far away as possible!"

"Got it, Sam," Five replied, waving at the comms tower.

Almost as soon as they had set off at a steady jog, Runner Eight began wheezing.

"Are—are you all right?" Five gasped, automatically jumping away from the runner.

"Y—yeah. I'm fine." Eight hacked again, spitting violently on the ground. Five couldn't help but stare, suddenly anxious. They had about ten zombies following from four kilometers away and couldn't afford to slow down.

"That cough…" Sam said nervously through the radio.

"Just a chest cold," Eight insisted. "Nothing to worry about."

"But that's what they all say," he tittered. "First a cough, then a rattle, then a moan…"

"It's just a cough, Sam!" she huffed, then lowering her voice. "He's always fussing about _something_." She let out another powerful hack but cut the radio controller off before he could voice his worry once more. "You know, Sam, if it bothers you so much, I'm just going to turn the radio off."

"Oh, no you don't!" Sam yelped. "Don't tu—"

With a small click, Eight cut the connection.

"There we go," she said. The radios emitted nothing but silence. "Now, it's just you and me. Those zombs are following us at a steady pace. Shouldn't be a problem at all, and we won't have to bother Sam."

Five didn't like this. At all. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked worriedly as Eight coughed again. She felt much safer when Sam was covering her back and cracking bad jokes. "He can track the horde for us and—"

"Oh, don't tell me you're worried now, too," Eight replied, rolling her eyes. "You sound almost as bad as Sam."

"Sorry. I'm just… a little jumpy."

"Not surprising, considering you went through that chopper crash a couple days ago," the runner beside Five said, her voice suddenly sounding a little _too_ cheery. "The only survivor and all that. Sev told me you were headed back to Mullins for further instructions; we were due for some supplies, so we think you were going to come to us. But then you got hit by that launcher… strange, isn't it? You were just bringing in supplies."

"Yeah," Five replied honestly. "We had no idea someone would attack us like that."

"Is that so?" the brown-haired runner's eyebrows were high, and Five suddenly had a bad feeling about where this conversation was headed. "You turned up out of the blue, perfectly unhurt. Sure, you have the right uniform, but that could have been stolen from a body. How do we know _you_ didn't fire that rocket launcher?"

Five's eyes widened in shock. "I—I didn't!" she stammered. "Ask Sam, I talked to him right after the crash, he'll tell you—"

"Sam sees the good in everyone," Eight interrupted coldly. "I like to stay realistic."


	7. Distraction, Mission Log 3:2

Before Five could protest again, Eight flicked on the radio.

"Hey, Sam!" she said sunnily, trying to cover up another cough and forcing Five into crushed silence. "Did you miss us?"

Sam gasped into the radio. "Never, ever… _ever…_ run array—run _away_—" he sputtered, almost unable to form coherent words. "Y—You know you never _ever_ turn your radio off. Never do that!" He took a deep breath. "_Okay?_"

Eight chuckled. "He gets lonely without us," she whispered.

"I—I heard that!" Sam protested. "And it's _not_ about me, okay? It's about keeping you alive! Listen, that horde of yours is getting closer. You have swarms everywhere but to the north. You've got to head that way."

"Copy that, Sam," Five said before Eight could reply. "And we'll keep our radios on."

"Thank you, Five," Sam replied pointedly. "Where will you go once you head north?"

Runner Eight spoke quickly. "New Canton. We'll head the zombs that way and let them take care of the horde. They have enough ammo to get rid of it easily. And it'll be a little payback for when they rounded the zombs toward us."

Before Sam could stop the two runners, they had reached the outskirts of New Canton, collecting supplies such as clothing, food, batteries and weapons along the way. Just as Five was picking up a pack of unused underwear, both runners heard a new transmission through the radios.

"Stop! Do not take a step further!" a serious voice called.

"We have a horde on our tail and no guns!" Five pleaded. "Please, it's not too much! You can take care of them!"

"Leave, or we shoot to kill!" The New Canton radio controller warned. "This is your last chance!"

"Get out of the way _now!_" Eight screeched, grabbing Five and ducking into a nearby group of rocks. The two runners breathed heavily and watched as New Canton shot all the zombies instantly. When the firing ceased, Eight laughed out loud and began jogging back to Abel. Five stumbled up and ran to catch her.

"Are you out of your _minds?_" Sam cried as soon as the area had gone quiet. "You could have gotten yourselves killed!"

"But we didn't, did we?" Eight said brightly as they took a shortcut back to Abel. Once the runners were in his sights, Sam became distracted with controlling the gate again, and Eight turned to her partner. Her gaze fell dark. "Today didn't turn out to be a good opportunity to chat, Runner Five," she said in a low voice. "But you should know that your sudden appearance here was too damned convenient for me to take lightly. We were low on supplies, and you just turned up like a white knight. I don't trust you, so you'd better watch your back."

"All right, we're all set!" Sam said cheerfully as Five's jaw dropped. "The gate's ready to go. Come on in!"

Without another word, the two runners entered Abel and split ways. Feeling slightly sick, Five didn't stop jogging until she reached the top of the comms tower. She knocked on the door hurriedly until Sam opened it.

"Nice run today, Five! You—are you all right?" The smile slipped from his face.

"She—she doesn't trust me—" Five faltered, her face turning red. "Eight—she thinks the rocket launcher was me—"

"Woah, calm down, calm down," Sam said, ushering her into the room and closing the door behind them. "What happened?"

Five began shaking in anxiety. "She said that it was too convenient—too good that I survived the helicopter crash and came here. She thinks that I shot it down!"

Sam sat the runner down, taking a seat in the other rolling chair.

"Listen, Five," he said gently. "She's right, in part. We didn't think we'd get another runner so soon. I mean, we knew that we were scheduled to receive supplies—and someone to help us build more shelters—but they were going to leave right away afterward. I guess you were the one who was going to do that for us, but they hadn't even given you your orders when you crashed. We still don't know what happened there, and it's making us nervous."


	8. Distraction, Mission Log 3:3

"I'm sorry," Five replied sadly, utterly at a loss for anything else to say. If Sam didn't believe her, then who would? "I don't know how to explain it. Do—do a lot of people think I'm guilty?"

"Well, that's another part of it. You've made quite a name for yourself around here," Sam admitted. "Now that you helped get those zombs to New Canton… well. That was quite a feat."

Five frowned. "You mean…"

"I _mean_ a lot of people think you're a great addition to Abel," Sam replied earnestly. "Including me."

"You… so you don't think I attacked the helicopter?"

Sam watched her intently. "No, Five. I really don't think you did. That launcher probably came from the wilderness."

Five willed her shaking to lessen, but she just stared down at her hands.

"Please don't let them kick me out. Mullins won't come looking for me, and I…" she trailed off. "I don't want to leave."

Sam sighed. "We need every good hand we can find, and you're great. Don't listen to Eight. She's trying to protect us and means well, but she can seem rough."

"I wish I could prove that I'm not the villain here." Five looked out the comms tower window, watching small zombie hordes run around.

Sam chuckled. "Keep rounding the zombies away from us and you'll be golden." He stretched and stood up, yawning. "Come on, Five. You look tired. You should go and get some sleep."

Five did suddenly feel exhausted and stood up as well. "Sure, all right. You want to head over to the residences?"

"Nah, I have to stay up a little longer. I'm on guard duty. Seems like I'm on guard duty a lot of nights, considering the good view that the comms tower gets."

"So you won't sleep tonight?" Five asked, aghast.

"I'll sleep, but not for another few hours. And by then I'll just end up sleeping here. It happens a lot."

Five frowned and looked around Sam's control room. "That doesn't seem very comfortable…"

"That's because you haven't seen all of the tower," Sam smirked. Then, he seemed to realize what he said and gasped a little. "I—I mean—"

"Oh, keeping secrets now, are we?" Five chortled.

"I—no—I didn't mean—" Sam stammered. "No, of course I'm not—"

Five allowed him to jabber nervously into silence, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Come on, Sam, a piece of toast could lie better than you. What are you hiding?"

Sam's jaw flapped silently for a second in protest; finally, he sighed in resignation. "If—if you tell anyone, I'll—"

"You'll what? _Run_ me out of Abel?"

Sam huffed, only slightly irritated. "Come on."

Grinning, Five followed the radio controller down the comms tower's stairs to the second level. A small door was imposed in the wall, and Sam unlocked it, glancing back at Five briefly before showing her inside.

The room just below Sam's control room was a small, makeshift bedroom. An old-looking but large mattress with blankets and pillows was messily piled in one corner. One small window lined the wall facing the west, so the last few rays of sun were shining into the room and burning the wooden walls orange. Beside Sam's bed lay a wooden crate and a chipped lantern with a small pile of books. On the other side of the room, Sam had piled old, broken headsets and communications supplies that needed fixing. Besides that, the room was bare.

"Ohh…" Five smiled. "This is why I don't see you around the residence halls much. You have your own room!"

Sam chuckled. "No one really needs this room. The mattress was extra from the hospital. They were just going to throw it away because of how ratty the springs are. I dragged it in here and used the blankets from my bunk, and this is generally where I sleep." He looked around his room proudly for a moment before letting his smile slip. "Really, though. Don't tell anyone, all right? Janine, the owner of this place, doesn't even realize I've claimed this area."

"I won't," Five replied warmly. "Don't worry. Besides, would she really take this away from you if she found out about it?"

"Probably not," Sam shrugged. "But Janine comes barging into my office enough; if she figured out I spent most of my nights away from the residences, she'd be knocking on this door from dusk 'til dawn. I'd never get any sleep at all."

"Well, I wouldn't want you falling asleep on the job, would I?" Five replied cheekily. "Suddenly, right as the zombies are onto me, I hear snores from your end and it's all over."

Sam laughed. "I'd never fall asleep while _you're_ on the run."

"Is that so?"

"Absolutely. You'd be turned in about twenty seconds out there without my guidance."

Five rolled her eyes. "You have so much faith in me."

"Of course," Sam grinned. "I couldn't let the newbie fall prey to the hordes. My reputation would be ruined!"

Five yawned again suddenly, her eyes drooping. "In that case, I'd better get some sleep. Otherwise, I might get caught with or without you." She turned to leave Sam's room. "Good night, Sam. See you at breakfast?"

"Of course."

"And… thanks for showing me this. Your secret's safe with me."

Sam smiled. "Sleep well, Runner Five."


	9. A Lost Child, Mission Log 4:1

"Are you kidding me?" Five gasped. "How exactly do you expect me to outrun forty zombies carrying eight sports bras, two pickaxes and a _baby?_"

"I'm sorry, Five, but it's our only option!" Sam called nervously in her earpiece. "They're right on your trail, and we can't just leave a kid stranded out here. That's inhumane! Basic rules of human decency!"

Five growled. "I know, I know! Just—just keep your eye on me!"

Sam sighed. "I always do."

Five ducked her head down and continued running through the forest. The wilderness was one of the most dangerous places for anyone—human or otherwise—to be. No one could tell what kind of beings roamed the thick greenery, but no one wanted to find out.

"Five," Sam said suddenly. "Look out on your left. Something's coming up fast and—"

"_Put that child down!_"

Five shrieked and skidded to the side as a motorcycle pulled up beside her. A fair-haired, slightly balding man crashed into view, his eyes glued to the white-blonde toddler wrapped in Five's arms.

"Leave her to me!" the man demanded.

Sam mirrored Five's thoughts exactly: "Um… keep running." Refusing to stop, Five attempted to ignore the man and outpace the motorcycle in vain.

"That's my daughter!" the man roared as Five clutched the crying girl. "My name's Ed Harrison, and that's my daughter, Molly!"

At hearing her name, the child looked over to the man, to Five's surprise. He gasped in delight.

"Thank God! She's all right! Molly, look here! I've got Mr. Rabbit for you!"

The child's sobs stopped abruptly as Ed pulled out an old, matted stuffed animal. Five stopped running.

"Five, what are you _doing?"_ Sam gasped.

"Shh, hold on!"

The little girl began reaching for the rabbit, giggling happily and struggling to get back to the man. His eyes were shining in relief. Without another word, Five passed the little girl back to her father, and they hugged desperately.

"Yes, Molly… I'm here. Daddy's here…"

"What happened to you?" Five snapped. "This girl was out in the wilderness for days!"

Ed looked down at his daughter guiltily. "I didn't mean for anything to happen. I had to leave Molly and her mother, Becca, back in hiding while I found food. I stumbled into a nest, though, and couldn't return for days. Becca must have… must have been bitten and gotten as far away as possible before wanting to eat her own daughter." Ed blinked furiously, strapping his daughter into a small motorcycle seat behind him and revving up the engine—which sputtered and died.

"Damn it," he muttered, checking over the bike. "I'm out of fuel!" He looked at Five, his eyes pleading. "Listen, I know where we could get some oil. If you help me, I'll gladly give you some, too. I saw a camp set up not far from here. Guys wearing a blue uniform. We can see what they have."

Five thought for a moment.

"All right, I'll go."

"Wait, I didn't catch all that," Sam interrupted. "Where are you going?"

"Just for some supplies with the kid's dad. It'll be fast."

Ed held Molly as they jogged along in the wilderness, soon coming upon the camp... which was empty. Tent stakes were still stuck in the ground and supplies were littered everywhere, but no humans were in sight.

Both Ed and Five gasped in as they looked around the area, but for two very different reasons. The father rushed forward to collect the ample supply of oil for his motorbike, but Five stood still, staring.

In the campsite lay a rocket launcher.


	10. A Lost Child, Mission Log 4:2

"Sam!" Five breathed, staring at the weapon. "Sam, I found a rocket launcher!"

"_What?"_ Sam yelped. "Where?"

"An abandoned camp!" Five replied, forgetting the oil momentarily and striding toward the launcher. "The girl's dad said that men in blue uniforms were camped here, but now they're gone!"

"Bring it back, all right?" Sam said seriously. "We're going to need to take a look at it."

"Copy that."

Five could hardly tear her eyes from the rocket launcher. Sam had been right; it had been stationed in the middle of the wilderness. Part of Five felt better that the weapon hadn't been shot by the zombies—_then_ they would have in trouble—but this meant that some group of people had a problem with Mullins Township. Five thought hard as she attached cans of oil to her utility belt and stuck some into her backpack as well. It was bad enough that they were warring against the undead; would Abel have to now begin battling with _humans_ as well?

Another piece of technology caught Five's eye as she and Ed finished scanning the campsite: a small, rectangular box. Five picked it up and turned it around in her hands; it had a dial and a number of buttons. Flicking the box on, Five pressed one of the buttons labeled "Low." A loud, flat tone sounded from the device, and Ed looked over at her.

"Where'd you find that?" he asked, walking over.

"By the rocket launcher." Five fiddled with it for another moment. "It just... produces tones."

"Good God, these guys just left all their technology lying around." Ed shook his head in disbelief. "Come on, we'd better get going if the zombs are on our trail. Take that and the launcher and we'll head back to the motorbike."

When they reached the vehicle, Ed and Five dragged it to a nearby patch of sunlight in order to see the fuel tank better.

"Ah, there you are!" Sam piped up. "I've got you on the cameras now. Look at you! You've got fuel and the launcher! You're just getting more and more popular around here, Five."

Five grinned and saluted, knowing Sam would see it. However, just as she waved her hand, a deep crash echoed in the woods.

Both Five and Ed froze.

The groans and padding of undead feet were audible as the horde got closer. Ed looked at Five with alarm.

"It's going to take me a moment to refill this bike," he said, handing Molly to Five. "Start running back to Abel and I'll meet up with you. Don't get caught!"

"Five, run!" Sam cried. "They know your location!"

Molly's pale curls bounced as Five took off, the new load even heavier on her back. The little girl immediately began crying, and Five cursed under her breath as the zombies heard the noise and began following along closely behind.

Five could hardly keep up a jog with everything she was carrying, and the zombies were getting closer. The rattles and moans only made Molly cry harder, and though Five knew she shouldn't look behind her... she did.

One zombie in the lead was loping swiftly toward her, one other close behind. Five let out a small scream of terror and picked up the pace, but the zombie didn't have oil cans or toddlers weighing him down. He was right on top of them... at Five's heels… he reached out a rotted hand to close around Five's neck and—

_CRASH!_

Ed's motorbike sped through the forest, and Five turned just in time to see him chop the head off of the lead zombie with a tire iron. With one expert shot, he eliminated the second zombie as well.

"Woah!" Sam exclaimed, nearly popping Five's eardrum. "That guy just saved your life! Took out two zombs from the back of his motorbike!"

Five handed Molly to Ed once more.

"Th—thank you—" she gasped, struggling to catch her breath.

"Not a problem," Ed said, securing his daughter into the seat behind him. "Come on, I can see Abel's gate from here. We're almost back." He looked toward the township wistfully. "Listen… I know it's hard to take in new faces, but… I don't have anywhere to go, and—"

"Tell that guy we'll take him!" Sam said excitedly. "That was bloody amazing!"

Five related the message once her heart rate calmed some.

"Thank you… thank you so much!" Ed replied, visibly relieved. "But... I don't have any more room for you..." Five glanced at the bike; it was already struggling to hold the cans of oil, rocket launcher, and two humans. Ed shrugged, checking the surrounding area. The zombies were at bay for the moment. "Well, I guess you're gonna have to run."

Sam heard that comment and burst into laughter as Ed sped toward Abel in the motorcycle.

"He—he just left me!" Five protested indignantly. "He just said—"

"Oh, come on, Five, it's not like you're in any danger now. The zombs are far behind. You'll make it back."

Five growled. "You'd better hope I don't make it back or I'll be kicking _your_ rear out of Abel to run around for a bit."


	11. A Lost Child, Mission Log 4:3

Back inside Abel, most of the citizens had crowded around Ed's motorbike as the newcomer explained what had happened.

"Ah, and here she is now!" Ed exclaimed as Sam lifted the gate for the runner. "The heroine herself. Welcome back, Runner Five!"

Ed seemed so genuinely glad to see her that Five's irritation at being left behind waned quickly. Little Molly laughed at seeing the exhausted runner, even giving her the honor of holding Mr. Rabbit for a few minutes as a peace offering.

Seven was watching the scene quietly, his bald head bowed in concentration. When Five was done chatting to the others, he ambled over discreetly.

"So you really found the rocket launcher in an abandoned camp, then?" Seven asked softly. Five caught Eight staring suspiciously at her and looked away, nodding. "What else?"

"This tone-producing device," she replied, handing him the other piece of technology. "I'm not sure what it does."

"Of course you do," Eight cut in coolly. She had made her way over after seeing the ongoing conversation. "That was your camp Ed found, of course."

"That's ridiculous!" Five said crossly. "Go and talk to Ed—he saw the guys in blue uniforms who had been in the camp. He had never seen me before in his life!"

"What, just believe the word of a complete stranger?" the mousy-haired runner retorted. "I need better evidence than that."

She turned and walked away, leaving Five in yet another state of chagrin. Seven must have noticed her face, because he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We're going to discover the truth, Five," he said calmly, determined. "You are still a runner to me and to Abel, even though a percentage of us may not think so." He sighed. "Come on, now. Let's get this oil and the weapon to the armoury."

Five followed Seven, still upset. His calm demeanor and steady tone usually made her feel more secure, but she was still uneasy. He hadn't really said whether he believed her or not.

As the motorbike was taken in for repairs, Five helped a few other Abel citizens unload the new goods.

"Hey, Five. What do you think about all this?"

Another runner had come up beside her to help carry the oil to the armoury.

"Not sure, Ells," Five replied, handing her a good-sized keg. "If I had any idea, I'd definitely say something."

"Hmm. At least we _found_ the thing, right? I feel better off knowing we have the launcher in here rather than out in the wilderness."

Five liked Runner Eleven. She had worked for some secretive branch of the government (that's all she would admit) before the destruction of civilization and was usually sent out on reconnaissance missions for Abel. The sassy, confident runner slept in the bunk just above Five's, so they naturally had begun to interact quite a lot in the mornings and evenings. At first, Ells had exuded suspicion toward Five and treated her with caution, but their conversations had gradually warmed and the runner seemed to eventually approve of her. Now, each night, they traded stories about their runs and woke each other up for breakfast in the mornings.

"I really don't know," Five grunted as she placed some oil down in the armoury. "I just get the feeling that some people out there are against us, but I have no idea who they'd be."

"There are lots of rogue human groups in existence," Eleven replied, stretching out her back. Through the spandex runner uniform, Five could see the outline of Eleven's rib cage—the right side was really quite deformed, the bones twisted at abnormal angles. "We just need to find out which one is out to get us."

"Do you think we can?"

Eleven grinned. "I've been in the business of sticking my nose where it's not supposed to be for way too long. It's only a matter of time. I'm sure we'll figure things out eventually."


	12. Paul Revere, Mission Log 5:1

"Runner Five, report to the main gates immediately. It's an emergency."

Five looked toward the comms tower, confused. That wasn't Sam's voice. It hadn't even been male.

Her eyebrows knit, Five made her way to the comms tower and knocked briefly on Sam's control room before entering. A woman Five hadn't met yet with piercing gray eyes sat at Sam's desk, wearing his headset. Before Five could question this new change of management, the brunette turned and saw the runner.

"Good, I'm glad you're here," she said briskly. "You're the only person available." She faced the controls again and let out a disapproving click. "Why does Mr. Yao keep this place in such a god-awful state? It's like he— eurgh!" Janine's fingers brushed along a strip of something dark and gooey.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in my comm station, Janine?"

Five jumped; Sam appeared behind her and entered the room.

"Never mind about that, what is this brown sticky goop?" Janine waved her fingers at him, disgusted. "Just don't even tell me! I—"

"It's _Marmite_, Janine," Sam said slowly, picking up a cracked jar from beneath his desk and rolling his eyes. "Simple... ordinary... Marmite. The jar broke. I may have been demonstrating how to use it to crush a zombie skull."

Five blinked. "_You_ know how to crush a zombie skull?"

"Such a tone of surprise," he muttered. "Now, get out of my chair and away from my mike, Janine! You know we have a deal. We don't interfere with your private quarters, and you don't—"

"It's an emergency."

"Such an emergency that you couldn't come and find me?"

"About seventy zombs are heading toward Brunswick, and their comms towers are down. They don't know about the invasion, and we have to warn them before the horde arrives!"

Sam stopped and looked over at Five. "Oh. Uh… yeah. That is an emergency." He cleared his throat. "All right then, Five. Ready for another run?"

As the runner exited Abel, Sam and Janine filled her in on the situation. One of the New Canton satellite settlements, Brunswick, had fallen prey to a fire.

"Their communications are shot," Janine explained. "We can't tell them that the fire's attracting zombies to them like moths to a flame... if moths wanted to eat your face off."

"That's…" Sam struggled to find the right words. "Poetic… and… _creepy_…"

Runner Eight was out as well, and Abel received transmissions that the Brunswick citizens had evacuated and were currently stationed in the wilderness near their abandoned base.

Five's eyes grew dark as she met with Eight. _Just the person I wanted to see._

"Finally, _someone's_ here," Eight said briskly, all business. Five was thankful that the runner could put her suspicions aside at least temporarily for the mission. "We have to get to that hill. The settlements are there, and we need to get the people back into a barricade I've set up in an east Brunswick building, where there's no fire."

"Yeah, all right," Sam piped up. "If Brunswick is at twelve o'clock, there's a massive pack of zombs heading towards them from… what… ten past ten? Quarter past ten. Well, somewhere in the pre-elevens anyway."

"Thanks, Sam," Five smirked. "We're rounding up the people now."

"Copy that, Five."

Surprisingly, Five evaded the zombies easily and quickly rounded up the hiding Brunswick citizens. She felt a little like a sheepdog as she herded the people back toward their vacated home, keeping a sharp eye out for the undead and listening to Sam track them.

"Sam, all the people are in the barricade," Five reported once the eastern building had been locked securely. "What now?"

"Since Brunswick's weapons were destroyed in the fire, we're sending out a group of runners and gunmen to kill off the horde."

Five walked toward the door. "Oh, good. I want in. Where are they meeting?"

"Oh no, you don't!" Sam replied seriously. "You just spent the entire day running. I'm not going to have you go right back into the horde now. You're exhausted!"

"I'm perfectly fine!" Five whined, though her limbs ached. "Really, Sam, I want to help!"

"You don't think I can hear you panting out there?" he asked. "_No,_ and that's final. We've already got Runners Seven, Two, and Eleven on the move, and some others will join them soon to take out the horde. They'll be fine without you, all right?"

"You're not my father," she retorted.

Sam chuckled. "No, but I am your friend, and I'm not going to let you get run down out there. It's almost nightfall, and you've been going nonstop all day. Please, Five. You'll be safe in the barricade until tomorrow. Get some sleep."

Five looked around the secure building; the Brunswick citizens were all huddled into groups, waiting for the storm to pass. Most were quiet, either dozing or simply holding their loved ones. Five suddenly felt remarkably alone.

"Fine, Sam," she relented. "But only because it's you. And I have one condition."

"What's that?"

"Don't turn my radio connection off, okay?"

"Will you be able to sleep?"

Truthfully, Five didn't know. "I feel better knowing that you're there. Please?"

He sighed. "All right."

Grabbing a spare pile of blankets, Five curled up as far away as possible from Eight, who, thankfully, had refrained from accusing her of treachery during the rescue. Five wrapped herself in the blankets, her uniform and radio still on, realizing just how exhausted she was. Her eyes began to droop as she listened quietly to the ongoing radio transmissions. Somehow, the sounds of dying zombies, fighting Abel citizens, and Sam's voice were enough to allow her to finally drift off to sleep.


	13. Recovery, Mission Log 6:1

The next morning, Five woke after a surprisingly restful sleep, her hair messed up and her radio askew. After disentangling herself from the blankets, she stood up and stretched widely, scanning the still-safe Brunswick barricade. Most of the citizens were asleep, but some were stirring and preparing for the day.

Her headset had turned off overnight—probably to save the battery—and she clicked it on, hoping to hear a familiar voice.

"Hey, Sam? You awake?"

"Well then, look who's up and about," Sam responded cheerfully. "I hope you got your beauty sleep last night, Five. You've got a long day ahead of you."

"I know," Five said, hooking her backpack over her shoulders. "We've got to escort all these people back to Abel. When should we start?"

"Oh, no, we've got a different mission for you today," Sam corrected her. "Let me just check my mission sheet…" He trailed off, and Five could hear the faint rustling of papers. "Yeah… there's no mission sheet. You've seen my office. Or should I say… corrugated tower we decided was no good for a latrine. We have enough electricity to power the transmitter, but not enough some days for, oh, I dunno… _light?_" He emphasized the last word loudly. "Did you hear that, Janine?"

"What? You don't have any light?" Five asked, alarmed.

"It's okay. Don't you worry about me, Runner Five. Just trying to keep everything together here while Janine—what are you doing with the electricity, Janine?

"I'm rewiring it, Mr. Yao. No complaining. You know this was my place before you all arrived. And those tools we were expecting from the military base would be pretty useful right about now. Any word on that?"

"Oh yeah, right, right, right," Sam laughed nervously. "Yeah so, uh… we're sending you back to your crashed helicopter today to see if there's anything you can find in the wreckage. And… I'm sorry, Five, but…"

Five heard a loud cough behind her and spun around. "Well, hello there, Five," Runner Eight said, her politeness laced with poison. "We're on the road together again. Isn't that _great?_"

The two runners allowed some other Abel citizens to escort the Brunswick people back to base while they set off in the direction of the crashed helicopter at a steady jog, Runner Eight coughing the whole way.

"I'm pretty interested to see what we'll find in the chopper, you know," Eight panted suspiciously as the two runners put distance between themselves and Brunswick. "That's why I volunteered for this duty. I just can't help wondering about things." She let out another cough.

"Hey, Runner Five, Runner Eight," Sam called. "Listen, we're rewiring the electricity over here, and Janine's switching off transmission and scanner only for a few minutes." He sounded nervous. "Sorry about this, guys. You know, if I could do it all myself—"

"You'd be a very valuable asset to this base, Mr. Yao," Janine cut in icily, and the radio clicked off.

Five suddenly recognized where they were. She had stumbled through the wilderness here the day of the crash, and the area gave her the chills. Shaking off her nervousness, she continued on with Eight until they reached a clearing.

They had reached the crashed chopper. It looked even worse than Five remembered; she could only identify the cockpit by the body that still lay in it and—

_Wait… a body?_

"Holy…" Eight uttered in disgust. "Is that your pilot?"

The pilot's cinnamon-colored skin had turned a sickly green. Five inched forward slowly to get a better look, her stomach churning as she saw what couldn't really pass as a body.

"She must have been left half-eaten like that strapped to her seat in the chopper," Eight whispered, swallowing hard. "Now she's dead and—"

Eight's explanation was interrupted by a loud groan and a shudder. The chopper's entire cockpit shook, and the two runners staggered backward in shock. With a loud rip, the pilot tore her seat belt off and stumbled out of the cockpit, her rotting eyeballs now focused on the runners in hunger.

"Holy Mary, mother of God!" Eight shrieked. "RUN!"


	14. Recovery, Mission Log 6:2

As the newly reanimated pilot began lumbering toward the runners, Eight screamed at Five to run a large circle around the helicopter as a distraction.

"I'll head back 'round to the chopper to see what I can find. Deal?"

"Are you crazy?" Five retorted hotly.

Eight flashed her a threatening glare, ignoring her words. "Okay. I'll catch up with you soon. Run!"

Rolling her eyes, Five put on a burst of speed and lured the zombie away from the chopper. _There had better be some good supplies in there!_ she thought in frustration.

Five ran through the forest quickly, making a huge loop around the helicopter as she wound around trees and over rocks. Finally, she lost the zombie and the forest was silent.

Then, Eight appeared in the underbrush, sweat dripping down her brow as she struggled to carry Janine's much-needed tools and… something else.

"Got them," she said quietly as they snuck away from the chopper. As soon as they were out of earshot of the pilot, Eight coughed loudly. "You know what else I found back there?"

"What?"

"Your ID." The runner whipped out a small card that Five recognized, and she gasped. Eight held the card up to Five's face. "There's your picture; there's your military cred. Guess you were just a raw recruit like the rest of us, huh? I guess I'll be handing this to the head of runners when we get in. Just because, you know, a_ bunch_ of us were wondering who you really were, and this, well, this is looking really great for you." Her voice dropped coldly. "Imagine what I would have had to do out there if I had found someone else's ID in that chopper. _Just imagine_."

Five was silent. She was innocent, and Eight knew that now. Why couldn't she just drop the subject?

Eight continued, watching Five's face closely with a knowing gaze. "Wouldn't have wanted ol' _Sam_ to hear that. He's a good kid."

Five's face reddened and she opened her mouth to retort.

"Aaaand… we're back!" interrupted a familiar voice. Sam. "I've got you all hooked up again back here and boosted your signal a bit. Did I miss anything?"

"Oh, nothing," Five growled. "We only almost got eaten by my pilot while you were away."

"You—you what?" Sam breathed. "I'm gone for _two minutes_ and you almost get yourselves turned?"

As Sam continued to mess with his controls, Eight spoke to Five in a low voice.

"You know, Five, I used to be at Mullins, same as you," she muttered so quietly Sam couldn't hear her. "I never saw you there, but I suppose people do move around a lot. Anyway, I keep in contact with a bunch of people back in the base. And I guess its my job to say, you and me, we got to talk sometime, Five. About Project Greenshoot."

Five didn't answer her. She wasn't about to talk to that runner about anything after how she'd been treating her. Especially not about any important Mullins projects.

As the two runners reached the base, Sam opened the gates. After waving at him in the comms tower, Five followed Eight. She wanted to know exactly where her ID was being taken. Ignoring the runner tagging along with her, Eight reached the food storage area and approached Seven, who was just finishing his lunch.

"Seven, we just made our way back from the chopper," Eight said instantly. Seven stood up, swallowing his last hunk of beef jerky and wiping his hands on a towel.

"All went well?" he asked, looking at both of them.

"I found this in there," Eight replied shortly. She handed the head of runners Five's ID card and waited, her arms crossed. "What do you think?"

Seven looked at the card closely, his brow furrowed. "Well," he said after a moment of silence. "I think it's safe to say that we don't have a rocket-launching lunatic on our hands here." He chuckled and clapped a hand on Five's back, and she broke into a smile. "We're glad to have you, Five. You've done so much for us."

Five stole a glance at Eight, who was quiet. She couldn't read the runner's emotions, but she decided not to worry about that for now. Seven trusted her, and that was all that mattered.

She had officially found a home.


	15. The Supply Run, Mission Log 7:1 & 8:1

Creeping silently through the underbrush, Five peeked out from behind a large oak tree and saw the New Canton gates.

"Listen," she said in a low voice, scanning the guarded wall. "I really don't think this is a good idea."

"Don't be silly, Runner Five," replied Janine. "My contact at New Canton is perfectly trustworthy."

"But how can you say that after one of their people tried robbing us?" Five asked. "She almost got away with stealing every bit of information we had, and if Runner Eight and I hadn't been around—"

"But you were," Janine interrupted. "Just keep making your way there, Five."

The runner sighed heavily and scanned the area again, jogging forward cautiously and closing the space between herself and New Canton. After a moment, she heard another voice in her ear.

"Hey… hey, Five," Sam whispered.

"Yeah?"

"She's gone to the bathroom." He paused, raising his voice a fraction. "Can you hear me, Janine?" They both waited for a moment. "Yeah, yeah, she can't hear me," Sam grinned before stopping abruptly. "Well… she wouldn't say if she could hear me. That woman is tricky. Listen, she's coming back in a second, and I know she's very good at her job, but just to be on the safe side, I'm keeping as many scanners focused on you as I can."

"What are you doing, Mr. Yao?"

Five jumped, and, apparently, so did Sam. "I—uh—what—nothing," he tittered, his voice light and airy. "Just talking to Runner Five. That's my job. Talking to Runner Five. Doing my job."

"Yes. That's your job." Five heard shuffling as Janine spoke into a microphone. "Very good, Runner Five," the owner of Abel commented, impressed. "You're almost at the supply drop area. You were quite right to recommend this one, Mr. Yao. A very efficient, competent worker."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, and then added quickly, "And we don't want to_ lose _Runner Five. Just… bear that in mind."

"There's nothing to be alarmed about, Mr. Yao," Janine replied shortly. "Everything's going well. My contact has arranged for us to pick up a cache just outside the city. It'll be just over the edge of this ridge."

Five approached the indicated area, keeping a close eye on the New Canton walls. They probably wouldn't see her when she crept across and grabbed whatever supplies Janine's contact provided.

As soon as Five poked her head over the ridge, however, sharp gunfire rang toward her head. Shrieking, the runner careened behind a tree as another voice broke through her radio connection.

"Runner from Abel Township!" a sharp, gruff voice said.

Sam gasped. "It's a trap!"

"Take evasive maneuvers!" Janine commanded. "Five, run!"

Spotting a clump of bushes leading away from New Canton, Five hurtled toward them and leapt into the greenery.

"Runner from Abel Township, you're surrounded!" New Canton's radio controller warned. Five squeaked in fear as she heard guns cock from all sides. "There's no hope of escape!"

"Runner Five, don't listen!" Sam interjected. "There's a break in the… uh—"

"Not a step further!"

"—Wall of people surrounding you. If you keep heading in the direction you're going, you might go out of scanner range, but—"

Five emitted another scream as the New Canton citizens began to fire, gunshots spraying everywhere.

"Five, just run!"

She didn't need to be told twice. Sprinting in the direction Sam had indicated, Five leapt over gnarled roots and fallen branches, expecting the spray of bullets to riddle her body any second.

"What the hell was that, Janine?" Sam growled.

Janine sputtered indignantly. "I didn't know it would come to this—"

The radio controller interrupted her angrily. "Look what you've done! Five is in danger now because of you!"

"Getting angry at me won't help her!" Janine retorted. "Keep her on your sights! That's the best you can do now!"

Sam stopped and focused his attention on his runner once more. "That's it, Five!" he encouraged, his voice an octave higher out of nervousness. "Just keep going that way. You're almost out of range of the gunmen!"

Indeed, the sharp sounds of shots were growing fainter as she ran, though her nerves were no calmer.

"Sam," she choked, gazing wildly around the now-unfamiliar terrain. "Sam, where am I?"

"Don't stop running! Let me just—the scanner—"

"Sam?" Five breathed, her heart racing. Her radio began sputtering, spewing radio fuzz in her ear. "I'm losing you! Sam!"

"Connec—breaking—" As Sam's voice continued glitching, Five's eyes dilated in fear. "Signal—scanner—Five—!"

The connection crackled violently and fell silent, utterly dead.


	16. Sam's Reaction, Mission Log 9:1

"_Five!_" Sam yelled, his hands shaking as he fought to keep hearing Five's panicked voice. "N—No, no! Five, Runner Five, can you hear me?"

He heard no response from the other end of the line, and every scanner in Five's area had fallen black. Not only had he lost vocal communication with her, but now she was completely out of range of the video cameras. He was blind and deaf.

"Don't lose me!" he cried into the darkness, working the controls frantically. "Janine, get on that wiring! Hurry!"

He and the owner of Abel worked quickly, their breaths short. No matter what they did—rewiring, pressing buttons, altering the transmissions—Five was gone. The connection had severed and only popped ominously.

"No!" Sam leaned into his controls frenziedly. "We've got to send someone out there to find her!"

He grabbed the voice amplifier to signal to the other runners, but Janine grabbed his wrist and wretched it away.

"We can't!" she said fiercely. "Look at the other cameras, Sam! There's a huge horde of zombs heading right toward us, and it's sunset already. If we let anyone else out for her, we'll definitely lose them!"

"Fine!" Sam grabbed a spare headset and ran out the door. "If no one else will go out there, then I can!"

"Sam!" Janine protested. "Come back—"

He had already disappeared down the stairs, grabbing a backpack from his room on the way out.

Sam ran toward Abel's entrance, pleading through his radio to raise the gates. Runner Eleven saw his attempts at escape and took off after the radio controller, grabbing him from behind.

"Five's lost out there!" Sam explained, struggling to get away from the runner. "We have to find her!"

"Sam, it's no use!" Eleven yelled back, restraining him. "It's already almost dark. It's suicide going out there now!"

"I don't care!" Sam continued battling Eleven, attempting to wriggle from her grasp. "I may not be a runner, but I can run!"

"Sam, _listen to me!_"

Eleven spun to block Sam's front, grabbing his face in her hands and shaking him slightly.

"You cannot go out there!" she repeated viciously, refusing to release the radio controller. She moved one hand to his collar. "When I was at my last base, someone I cared about went missing just like this. He left on a mission to collect supplies, and his radio malfunctioned. I went out after him that night, and I didn't let anyone stop me."

She growled in concentration, tightening her grip on Sam's collar. "I stumbled into a nest," she hissed bitterly. "I almost got bitten, and for what? Yeah, I found him. But by the time I got to him, he had been ripped to shreds, even beyond hope of reanimation. The only reason I knew it was him was because I found this." She reached a hand beneath her uniform and ripped off a chain from around her neck. "I found this around his mangled neck."

Sam stared at the necklace dangling in front of him. Two dog tags hung from the chain, carved with an ID number and a name: "David."

After a moment of hesitation, Sam stopped fighting Eleven, his muscles relaxing. His eyes looked vacant.

"You're right," he said hollowly. "I can't go."

Eleven cautiously released her grip, and Sam staggered backward. He stumbled as he made his way back further into Abel.

"Where are you going?" she called, closing her fist tightly around the dog tags, her eyes suddenly wet.

"Back to the tower," Sam replied quietly without turning to her. "Maybe my body can't go out to her, but I'll keep trying until my voice can."


	17. A Voice in the Dark, Mission Log 9:2

Stationing herself solidly between the forked tree trunk, Five gazed across the wild forest landscape. The darkness was oppressive, and she could hardly see the stars through the thick, leafy canopy. She had no idea where she was and had attempted to climb a tree with low-hanging branches in order to get a visual of the surrounding area and perhaps see Abel or another human township. Hell, she would even take New Canton over the wilderness at this point. At least, if she got to them, they would just shoot her rather than turn her into an undead monster.

Ever since she had lost connection with Sam, Five had been fighting to stay calm, but she knew she was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Her heart rate had refused to slow, and she was acutely aware of every breaking branch and rustling leaf, her nerves heightened to their peak.

Never before had she been stranded on a mission without a working radio. At Mullins, the radio controllers were top-notch. Even when her helicopter had crashed, Sam had been in contact the whole time. At Abel, Sam… Sam had always been there for her.

Now, she was alone. She had avoided a few groups of zombies without incident since the connection loss, but her energy was draining, and she knew it.

Growling silently, Five swatted at yet another mass of mosquitos. Her wild imagination was getting the better of he as she fought to swipe away the swarm of bugs indulging in her flesh. For all she knew, these flying syringes from hell were carrying and transferring zombie blood.

She didn't want to think about it.

Squinting through the darkness, she lifted herself up a little higher, cognizant of her dangerous position in the tree. She had been perspiring nonstop since the attempted murder at New Canton, and the accumulation of adrenaline, hormones, and sweat was a smorgasbord of aromas for the undead. Forget the mosquitos. She was a walking zombie buffet.

After all, if she could climb this tree, then the zombies certainly could. And now she had nowhere to run.

It was no use. Five couldn't see anything through the merciless blackness of the night. She shivered slightly as a breeze whipped past her. As if everything else weren't enough, her runner uniform clung wetly to her skin as she perspired. After the sun had set, the temperature dropped, and Five became colder and colder. She had to stretch out her leg muscles constantly to keep them warmed and ready for action.

Suddenly, Five heard a sharp crackling sound. She jumped and almost toppled out of the tree, but grabbed the trunk just in time to catch herself. For a wild moment, she thought a zombie was rustling through the greenery, finally catching her scent like a hound finding its rabbit prey. However, the sound was too close; it was right in her ear.

Her radio.

Five's headset had sputtered to life, and it spat staggered fuzz in her ear. It was alive.

"Hello?" she asked quietly. "Hello, is anyone there? Abel? Mullins? Do you come in?"

Nothing occurred save for another violent emission of static. And then… a voice.

"Five," it said. She gasped. "Come in, Runner Five, can you hear me?" Static interrupted the message.

"S—S—Sam?" she called as loudly as she dared. "Is that you, Sam?"

"Runner Five… Come in, Runner Five, are you out there?"

"Yes!" she hissed, not allowing her voice to tread above a loud whisper. "I'm here!"

"Runner Five, calling Runner Five, come in, Runner…" The radio controller's voice faded out again, and Five cursed under her breath. He couldn't hear her.

"No, I copy! I'm here; I'm alive!"

The line was silent… but only for a moment.

"Runner Five."

Sam. It was really him. His voice rang clearly in her ear. "I don't know if you _can_ hear me… our scanner's down. It never works that well at night anyway, and a couple of bits of equipment have broken down, so…" He took a deep breath. "So there's no way to see where you are. Truth is, I don't even know if you're alive. Odds aren't good, right? Hey, odds aren't good for any of us, but I'm still…" He scoffed humorlessly. "Well. I guess I'm still alive. It's about all I _can_ say. Runner Five, we... we don't know where you are. We know you didn't get taken by New Canton. We managed to track that much. But you haven't come back."

Five listened with bated breath, drinking in every word Sam spoke.

"It's the middle of the night, Runner Five, and there's a reason we don't send patrols out at night. If you're where we think you might be, to the north, the area's swarming with zombies, and… they often head for us at night. If they get here before you, we're… we're gonna have to bar the gates." Five's heart stopped, her eyes widening in horror. "There'll be no way for you to get in, and we'll have to watch…"

He stopped, and Five knew they were both imagining the same scenario: Five locked outside the Abel gates, pounding on them, begging Sam to let her in while the zombies cornered her. She would be eaten alive before his eyes, and he would watch every moment of it. He would watch as she either died or turned into the enemy.

No. No, she had to get back. She had to escape. She could hear Sam now, so she couldn't be impossibly far from Abel.

Sam's voice her only solace, she set her jaw in determination. She _would_ make it back.

She had to try.


	18. A Voice in the Dark, Mission Log 9:3

Five attempted to quiet her pounding heart as she listened to Sam's words. She had to stay calm—stay sane—if she wanted to live through this. Somehow, she needed to keep her wits about her.

"You're not even my second Runner Five, you know that?" He paused, and then continued flatly. "You're my fourth."

Well. _That_ was certainly heartwarming. Five frowned. "I guess there's no better reason you'd make it back than any of the others… but we've put the red beacon on top of the tower. So if you can see it, my best advice is… run."

Wait… a beacon?

Five looked around wildly, but it was in vain. She could see no red light through the trees. Knowing perfectly well she was in more danger the higher she climbed, Five scrambled up the tree trunk.

As soon as she had reached another steady branch, Five gazed around herself in a circle. She was just at the tips of the trees, and she couldn't see anything except… except…

Except a red light in the distance.

Five let out a low breath of air as she spotted a tiny dot of red light to the south. It was the beacon.

Without hesitating, Five clambered down the tree as fast as she could, nearly falling in the process. Landing back on the earth, Five peered quietly around the underbrush before setting off in the direction of Abel, a small fire of hope burning in her chest.

Sam's voice piped in her ear once more, to her surprise. "So… I'm just gonna keep talking for a while." Five smiled in spite of herself, utterly grateful for the company she could not reciprocate. "I mean, for all I know, I could be talking into the ear of a zombie. But, hey, undead fiend who used to be my friend Runner Five, at least I can irritate you with the sound of food you can't get at." Sam chuckled, and Five grinned, his laughter fueling her newfound energy. "Over here. Look at this tasty human meat!" His laughter died after another chortle.

"We've all gone a bit crazy these last few months, haven't we, Runner Five?" he said, and the smile slipped from her face. "I mean, you know, that's the thing you don't really think about during an apocalypse. How it's going to affect your ability to, like, be normal… ever again. Do you think we've just… _forgotten_ how to be normal? Do you even remember what normal felt like?"

Five blinked, thinking. To be perfectly honest, she hadn't even allowed her mind to wander that far in the past for a long time. Going out on missions forced her into focusing on the moment, and she couldn't afford to bring back painful memories if she expected herself to survive this.

"I called you my friend just before, didn't I? Is that cool with you?" Sam mused. Despite being utterly alone in the darkness, Five nodded as she continued heading toward Abel. _Yes. Yes, it is, Sam. _"I mean, I'm definitely not your friend if you've gone gray, but… I feel like we have a kind of… simpatico. Something?"

"Yeah," she whispered back into the one-sided conversation.

"So… yeah, well, le—let's just talk like normal people. Like… _buddies_, or something."

Despite all this—despite facing the possibility that Five was dead or turned—Sam was here. Sam was talking to her, holding her hope in each syllable he uttered, calling her a _friend_. Five swallowed hard, picking up the pace a little.

Sam continued speaking. "Before all this, I—I bet you had a pretty good life. Someone like you, yeah, I can see it." Five's stomach clenched tightly, and she forced herself not to dwell on that sentence and continue listening. "People you cared about, job you didn't hate. I know… lots of people don't like to talk about that stuff. 'Think forward,' the Major says. 'Rebuilding is key.' But, you know, I feel like…" He stopped for a moment, thinking. "We have to remember what it was like so we know what we're building, don't we? No, I don't mean escalators and shopping malls and frozen yogurts… al—although, I could really go for an ice cream roll right now."

Five stopped running. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd had an ice cream roll. She stretched for a moment, allowing her fatigued limbs to recover temporarily.

"Do you remember those things?" Sam asked her. She nodded again. "Cake outside and ice cream in the middle? Was it—or was it the other way around?"

"No, Sam, it was cake in the midd—"

"I don't even remember anymore," he continued. Then, Five heard a small noise—the sound of a rolling chair moving. "Now, wait, wait, hang on, I'll go and check. And, um, uh, yeah, if you're still Runner Five, keep running."

"No!" Five breathed. "No, Sam, come back!"

The line was silent, and Five gasped. She couldn't do this alone. Not without him. Hearing a sudden rustling in the bushes, Five squeaked and took off at a sprint, ignoring the pain in her calves. What if he got distracted? What if he thought she thought was a lost cause? What if he decided not to come back?

_Don't leave me, Sam,_ she pleaded silently. _Please… don't give up on me._


	19. A Voice in the Dark, Mission Log 9:4

Five was unaware whether Sam had been gone five minutes or five hours. The silence seemed to press upon her ears as she ran, fear throbbing through her veins once more. Perhaps it was better this way—perhaps it was better that Five could hear the surrounding area—but she found herself wishing for her radio controller to return. Whether he was a dangerous distraction or not, Five didn't care. If she were going to die tonight, she wanted to hear him one last time.

"Okay, hi," a voice popped in her ear, nearly making her heart jump through her throat. He was back. He hadn't abandoned her. "Right, so, yeah. Um… two things. A: Well, I was right. It was cake outside and ice cream inside." Five almost laughed. She had forgotten about Sam's ice cream rolls. "B: Apparently, checking this is not a good reason to wake Janine up in the middle of the night, okay? Yeah. Okay. Got it. So… um… where were we? Ah, yeah, right. Before. Wanna know what I did before this?"

Five picked up her pace, making her strides longer. Despite the consistency of their time together, Sam had never told her his story, and she had never shared hers. Perhaps she knew his favorite movies and music and flavors of jam, but they had been careful to avoid any stories that were too difficult to think about.

And yet, here they were. Thinking about the impossible.

"Well, I'm imagining you're brimming over with enthusiasm," Sam joked. "With… with these mad skills I expect you think I was a DJ or a radio host or something like that, don't you? Nuh uh. I was a student, man, fourth year. Engineering degree."

Engineering? Five wouldn't have expected Sam to be happy doing—

"I was, just for the record," Sam said, interrupting her thought. "Really, really_, really_ terrible at it. I didn't even enjoy it, that's the sad part. I tried so hard, and—and my parents, they wanted me to be good at it so much. I… yeah, well… I guess at least they died not knowing I was probably going to fail the course."

He had never told her this. Never had he mentioned that his family was gone. Five gulped, keeping her eyes forward in the dark, just plodding south and listening. That was all she could do.

"My dad would have been so angry," he continued, seemingly lost in his story. "He was so angry when I failed French, and he didn't even care about French. He was Chinese. He was all, 'You have dishonored the family,' et cetera, et cetera. My mom wasn't angry. Just sad. You know what's really bad, Runner Five, y—you know what's really, really just… horrible?"

Five wondered what could possibly be more horrible than feeling inferior for the entirety of his life and then having his parents dead.

"This—what I'm doing right now—is what I wanted to do. I used to mess around at the radio station at uni. I—I wanted to talk on air, or work behind the scenes or something. I thought—I thought, maybe, if I failed my degree, my parents would let me go and do what I wanted, but…" He sighed. "Yeah. No, probably they wouldn't. What's really, really, bad, is… some days… some days, I'm grateful for all this."

Five's eyes widened as Sam laughed hollowly. "Because I—I don't have to get up in the morning and go to classes and pretend—pretend I care about engineering. I…"

Sam paused again, and Five almost had to stop running, horror-struck as she was. Sam—bright, cheerful, loyal Sam Yao—was _grateful_ for the apocalypse.

"I'll be right back."

Five's heart swelled, and she blinked furiously. He felt guilty. He felt the guilt of being thankful for the horrible event that was slowly destroying humanity. Five choked a little on her breaths, struggling to remain composed.

Yes, his thoughts were terrible, but they were also human. Five wanted nothing more than to… than to be with him now. She wanted to hug him tightly and tell him everything was going to be all right.

But it wasn't.

She was probably miles away from Abel still. She couldn't hold him, much less speak to him.

Well. All the more reason for her to make it back. She didn't want to accept her fate out here now, damn it. She wanted to live. To… to see him again with her own eyes.

"Hey! Hey. Hi." His voice sounded husky as he returned. "I—I say, 'Hi'. Possibly, I mean, 'Damn you, fiend who has taken the body of Runner Five and is using it for its own horrifying purposes.' Or… possibly I mean… 'Sorry you're dead, Runner Five.'" As upsetting as that statement was, Five didn't allow herself to become distraught. He was still here. As long as he kept speaking, he still held some hope that she would return.

"That stuff's weird, isn't it?" he asked. "Other people you actually know are dead. I know my parents are dead because I… yeah, well, I—I know they're dead, and it was pretty horrible, but… my sister, no idea." He paused. Sister? Sam had a Sister? "She'd, uh, just started her first year at uni. Law. She was actually good at it. Liked it. Made my parents proud. No… besmirching family honor. Came home with top grades in the class after her first term. I remember that Christmas before …the fall of civilization. All the praise for her." His voice lowered bitterly. "Now, I was jealous, man. And then… the thing happened while she was staying with her boyfriend, and we couldn't get her on the phone, and—and she never knew our parents had… turned, and… Oh, I dunno. She's probably dead."

He sighed, and Five's fingers clenched tightly on the empty air as she ran. She needed to make it back to Abel now, if not for anything else but to give Sam the hug he desperately needed. That was all she wanted. If she could reassure Sam that he wasn't alone—that she was there for him—then she would be content.

_I'm coming, Sam._


	20. A Voice in the Dark, Mission Log 9:5

Ever the optimist, Sam didn't stop talking there. Five knew he couldn't. He wouldn't let himself stew in the sadness. That just wasn't in his personality.

"But you never know, right?" he questioned. He continued rambling to distract himself from his lost sister. "You know what else is weird? How… some person you barely knew will just suddenly just come floating into your head. Like... like this guy I used to see in engineering lectures. This really tall guy, red hair, gangly-looking. I think his name was Steve, or, um, maybe Simon; I don't know if I ever spoke to him once. And, uh… I hadn't thought about him for a minute and then today, this morning, I just woke up from dreaming about him, and I realized I—I—I couldn't remember his name. Uh… and he's probably dead, and maybe I'm the only person left alive who remembers him at all anymore and… and maybe, you know, well, maybe that's how it'll be for you, Runner Five. If you're gone. Who'll be left to remember you?"

Five's mouth fell open. Wait… wouldn't—wouldn't Sam remember her? If she never made it back, would he just refuse to acknowledge he ever knew her? Would she just become another forgotten name on his list of Runner Fives? Part of her fractured a little as she ran.

Sam sighed. "Oh, yeah, uh, sorry. I guess that's not too inspiring. What I mean is… run, Runner five. Run on home." His voice broke. "If you can."

_Home._

Five took a shaky breath and fought the tears now forming at the corners of her eyes.

Mullins had certainly never been a home to her. The militaristic atmosphere had felt more like a war zone than a home. And then… and then, she had literally stumbled into Abel. She had survived the initial suspicion, gained the tolerance of the other citizens, found Runner Seven's support, Dr. Myer's approval, Janine's acceptance, and Sam's friendship.

Abel was more than a township. It was a family.

"Oh… Oh, _Sam_…"

She let out a small croak, a tear slipping down her face before hearing a sharp rustle in the forest. She gasped and ran faster, not wanting to know what was behind her.

No. No, she couldn't do this. She couldn't cry now. She couldn't waste her energy on tears. She had to save it for running. Sobbing wouldn't save her from the hordes.

Sam inhaled deeply. "Oh, I dunno, Five… they said to me just now I should probably hit the sack sometime soon."

"Oh, no…" Five breathed, hearing Sam yawn.

"They'll send on someone else to keep sending out pings through the night, but… I've got to be honest. We're losing hope here. Couple of zombs have arrived at the gates, and that usually means the bigger horde is on its way. Maybe only a few minutes till we bar the gate."

That sent another thrill of fear down Five's spine. She peered, terrified, through the darkness, wondering if she were anywhere close to Abel… and then, she saw it.

The red beacon. The comms tower.

"Another good runner gone," Sam sighed. "Another piece of equipment lost. And we're… the next time I see your face, maybe I'll have to shoot you in the head."

"No!" she puffed. Abel's gates were slowly becoming more visible through the trees, the red light shining loyally and guiding her way through the greenery. "I can see you!"

"No one stays sane through this, Five," the radio controller continued dejectedly. "Whatever the future is, it—it's not gonna be like the past. No ice cream rolls will make it better. No… no one saying they're proud of me would make it okay."

"I'm here!" Five panted, her eyes stinging as the wind whipped at her face. She could definitely see the gates now, and she waved her hands wildly, begging to Sam through the dead connection to see her. "Look, look, I'm right here!"

"Maybe you're better off, see, is what I'm saying," Sam was explaining, audibly upset. "I know we're not supposed to say that, but—but sometimes I think—ugh. Maybe if you—if you don't have to try to build the future, you're one of the lucky ones. Maybe."

Five continued waving toward Abel widly, screaming at the top of her voice. "I'M HERE! DON'T LOCK THE GATES!"

She heard, through the radio, the comms tower's doors bang open.

"Sam!" a worried voice called. It was Jack, one of Abel's music DJs. "Look! One of the observers just heard—we think something's coming!"

"Wha—what is it?" Sam asked, confused. "I told you the scanner's down, we can't—"

"Just look at it!" insisted another young man in a strong Canadian accent—the other music DJ, Eugene.

Sam gasped and a loud thump resounded from the connection; Sam had just fallen out of his chair. "Oh my _God_, is that—Runner Five, I can _see you!_"

Her voice practically hoarse, Five did not stop yelling. Her knees shook in pain as she ran, but she refused to slow. She could hear definite footsteps behind her in the forest now… and heavy, labored breathing.


	21. A Voice in the Light, Mission Log 9:6

Five hurtled toward Abel's gates, aware of only what she could see and hear. Her eyesight was blurred with tears. Sam was jabbering in her ear—excitement, encouragement, nervousness, and agitation all at once. Five's head began spinning.

"Runner Five!" Sam shouted, panicky. "Runner Five, if you can hear me, I can see you!" He let out a choked noise of astonishment. "Augh! Oh my God, Runner Five, you can't see them, but there's a—there's a tail behind you. Zombies!"

She could hear them. She could practically smell their rotting breaths as they rattled along behind her, getting closer and closer. She was almost to Abel's gates now. So close. Her body screamed at her to give up… it would be easier. So much easier.

The only thing that kept her going was the encouragement in her ear.

"No—about thirty of them, th— they're getting closer, I dunno—" Sam stuttered. "Ohh, don't they make that noise at night?"

Five couldn't stop them. Tears of terror ran down her face, and she was sure her heart would explode in fear. The only thing she could see was the red light above the comms tower, and she ran, almost blind, toward Abel's gates. The zombies were mere meters behind her now.

"Run, Runner Five!" Sam pleaded desperately. "Run, run_, RUN!"_

Through her leaking eyes, Five sped toward the gates as best she could, unaware how far she was from them.

"Raise the gates!" Sam screamed. Five's ears dimly registered the characteristic beeping as she slid into Abel Township. Unable to halt herself, Five continued running. She couldn't think straight, and there was only one person on the face of the earth who could stop her now.

People were coming at Five from every direction, swarming at her and yelling things she couldn't understand. Things she refused to understand until she found him.

"Five!"

A tall figure with black hair ran toward her, and her eyes sparked in recognition. Without any sort of warning, Five hurtled into Sam's arms, knocking them both to the ground and sobbing uncontrollably.

"We've got you, Runner Five!" Sam's voice broke as he hugged Five tightly in his lap, his eyes shining. "You're home."

Almost the entirety of Abel stared down at the two, but Five didn't care. She continued crying and hyperventilating, the groans of the zombies still reverberating through her mind. She was shaking, sweaty, and covered in bug bites, but Sam didn't seem to mind. Sam, her radio controller, who had been there for her through it all.

"D—d—don't—" she sputtered through her sobs, still clutching Sam tightly. "Don't forget—you said you'd forget—"

"Wh—what are you saying?" Sam asked her, concerned. "Five, what is it?"

"P—P—please—" she wept. "You asked—who'd re—remember me—"

"I—oh, God, you heard that…" Sam mumbled, squeezing her. "Five…"

"Don't—don't forget…" she cried frantically, still blubbering. "Please remember me…!"

"Five... I don't have to." Sam lifted her face gently to meet his eyes. "You're right here."

Sam held and rocked Five as her terror slowly subsided, glaring at anyone who dared to get close to them. Right now, she didn't need anyone else but him.


	22. Dr Myers's Tip, Mission Log 9:7

After what seemed like years, Dr. Myers was able to pry Five from Sam's arms, insisting that the runner was in major need of medical assistance. It was only after she told Sam that she had to check for zombie bites and shock that Sam reluctantly lifted Five up from the ground.

"Sam, you need to go back to the comms," Dr. Myers said seriously, helping to hold Five up. "Your shift isn't over yet, and no one is tracking the hordes."

"Sam… no…" Five mumbled, her limbs shaking in fatigue.

The radio operator hesitated, not wanting to leave her side. "Five, I—I have to go…"

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Sam," Jack said quietly. "Eugene and I can take it from here. You go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Go on."

The Abel citizens stared as Sam helped Dr. Myers transport Five to the hospital. Some were muttering to each other under their breaths, and he cringed inwardly. Five's dramatic entrance into Abel had been witnessed by the majority of the township, and he knew eyebrows had risen as she flung herself into his arms.

Ignoring the whispers, Sam determinedly stared ahead toward the hospital, gripping Five tightly on the other side of Dr. Myers.

"I'm sorry…" she said quietly. "I'm sorry I got lost. Made trouble. Didn't mean to."

"Don't apologize, Five," Dr. Myers said firmly. "It was no fault of yours."

Five's face was fraught with anxiety as they entered the hospital. She struggled to speak, and Sam noticed dark circles under her eyes.

"Just stay quiet now," the doctor murmured, guiding Five to a bed. "You need to rest."

She gave Five a strong sedative, and the runner was soon asleep.

Sam retreated from the hospital room at Dr. Myers's bidding, pacing worriedly outside in the hall. He hadn't noticed any badly torn flesh when Five had collapsed in his lap, but, then again, he hadn't really been paying attention. If the doctor found any bites… Sam was unable to bear the thought of what would happen afterward.

Finally, _finally_, Dr. Myers appeared at the door.

"She's not…" he stuttered. "She hasn't—we don't have to—"

"No bites," the doctor confirmed. "Don't worry, Sam. She's just exhausted and tore up a calf muscle. She'll have to take a rest from running for a bit."

"Can I see her?"

Dr. Myers relented, allowing Sam back inside the room. He approached the bed and sat down beside Five, gazing at her sleeping form. He sighed, placing his head in his hands.

"I… I thought we'd lost her."

"So did half of Abel." Dr. Myers tidied the hospital room, wiping her hands on a towel. "She's lucky she made it back." She finished cleaning and looked steadily at Sam. "You were really worried about her, weren't you?"

Sam cleared his throat. "No—no more than anyone else. Keeping the runners safe is my job."

"Mmm."

Sam and Dr. Myers were silent for a while, the only audible sounds Five's deep breathing and the clatter of bottles as the doctor prepared some more medicine. Sam was exhausted, but he couldn't leave Five like this. Seeing her so upset… he needed to be here when she woke up.

"Sam," Dr. Myers said slowly, bottling up the last of the pills and sitting on the bed beside him. "I… I realize that… you and Runner Five care about one another."

Sam's face burned red. "Wha—no, don't be silly. We're just…" he trailed off. "Buddies?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he fell silent. Suddenly, the hospital room felt very warm.

"Listen. I'm not accusing you of anything, nor is it my business what your personal life is. I just…" She hesitated. "Abel is crowded enough as it is, and we can't afford to have little Sams and Fives running around."

Sam's brain shorted out.

His jaw flapped stupidly for a moment, only able to emit scattered, unintelligible syllables.

"I—we—not—"

"Again, I'm not judging in any way," Dr. Myers continued professionally. "I just want to take precautions."

The doctor handed Sam the small box she was holding. Sam's eyes widened as he took it; its label read _Trojan_.

Once he was able to speak properly again, Sam swallowed. "We aren't. We haven't. She doesn't even... she doesn't even like me that way."

"All the same," Dr. Myers replied calmly. "Just keep it."

Sam stared down at the little box, struggling not to picture the situation in which he'd need it. His fried brain could definitely not handle that right now. "You… You never said anything when Alice was around."

Dr. Myers pulled up a chair for Sam, indicating where he could sit if he wanted to stay the night and keep the sleeping runner company. She walked toward the door and turned to him just before she left.

"You never looked at Alice the way you look at her."

She exited the room quietly, clicking the door shut behind her.


	23. The Break, Mission Log 9:8

Five curled around her covers, inhaling deeply and gradually returning to consciousness. She opened her eyes slowly and saw the somewhat familiar area in which she now lay.

It was a room in the hospital, and as she took it in, the events of the night before seeped back into her brain. She could only vaguely remember the end—Dr. Myers had pierced her skin with a syringe, and then everything had gone black. But... the doctor hadn't been the only one to help her.

Five's eyes fell on a figure at the foot of her bed. Sam was sprawled out in a chair—that couldn't have been comfortable—and he was fast asleep. She remembered stumbling back into Abel and refusing to stop until...

_Oh, no._

Five cringed. All of Abel had been standing around her and Sam as she sobbed into his shoulder. She had made a fool of herself, and Sam probably thought she was crazy now. She had put him in a horrible position.

Five sat up slowly, her entire body sore. As she began stretching out her aching arms, Dr. Myers strode into the room. Her eyes fell on the runner, and then Sam, and her mouth twitched warmly.

"Good morning, Five," she said quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Um... I hurt all over," Five admitted. Her arms and legs were covered in scratches from the tree branches and bug bites.

"Not too surprising," the doctor replied, handing her a glass of water and some pills. As Five gulped down the medication, Dr. Myers handed her some bandages and disinfectant. "This should do for all the scratches."

"Thank you." The runner was touched at the doctor's kindness. "And... and thank you for yesterday. I'm sorry I was such a mess."

"You were apologizing yesterday, too," Dr. Myers said. "Don't. You were almost delirious from exhaustion. Stranded for hours away from base, and at night too, so I'm not surprised."

Five sighed and looked at Sam. "Was I in that bad of shape that you had him watch over me last night?"

Dr. Myers raised her eyebrows. "He refused to leave. He could have at any time."

"R... really?"

The doctor nodded and handed Five some fresh clothing. She was still in the running uniform from the night before.

"There's a shower down the hall. It doesn't have that much water left in the tank, and it's all cold, but you should clean up. Can you walk?"

Five frowned and stood gingerly; a sharp pain shot down her calf and she inhaled sharply. She could walk, but moving anywhere fast was out of the question.

"You'll have to take a break from running," Dr. Myers told her, leading her to the bathroom. "You have to let your muscles heal before you go out on any missions again."

"Do you know how long that will take?" Five asked worriedly. "I still have to earn my keep here..."

"Five, we're not going to kick you out because you got injured," the doctor replied. "It's not major. It should take anywhere from one to three weeks to heal."

After Five showered and changed, she grabbed some breakfast—some almost-stale slices of bread and dried fruit—and shambled back to the hospital room. When she arrived, Sam was still asleep, his neck twisted at an awkward angle. He would be sore when he woke up.

"Sam?" she said gently, tapping his knee. "Sam, wake up."

The radio controller jerked awake and blinked rapidly.

"Five!" he exclaimed, sitting up straight instantly. "You're up! How are you feeling?"

"Better," she smiled, handing him some breakfast and sitting on the end of the bed. "You?"

"Fine, just fine," he said, popping dried apricots into his mouth. "You're the one who was stranded yesterday!"

Five looked down guiltily. "I'm sorry."

"How can you possibly still be apologizing for that? It's not—"

"No, not about that," Five interrupted. "About—about how I came back. And, like, attacked you. Everyone was watching. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"I wasn't embarrassed," he shrugged. "I wanted to help. I was just… I didn't expect it, that's all."

"It was partly because of your transmission," Five admitted. "I wanted to—well—" Her face reddened. "I wanted to comfort you, I guess."

Sam stared. "You—did you hear all that?"

"I'm sorry about your sister," she uttered, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "I'm so sorry. About failing French and losing your family and the roll cakes and that boy from your lectures." She swallowed hard. "I just wanted you to be okay when I came back and I didn't know what else to do."

After a moment, Sam slowly stood up and sat beside Five on the hospital bed.

"And now, I've just made things worse," Five continued miserably. "Everyone saw us yesterday. They'll start gossiping about you. You don't deserve that."

"Five," Sam said firmly. "I don't care."

She looked up at him. "You don't?"

"I don't. And do you know what?"

"What?"

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Dr. Myers entered the room at that moment.

Five realized just how close she was sitting to Sam and they jumped away from each other hastily.

"It's about time you two had breakfast," the doctor said briskly. "We have a lot to do today. Sam, Runners Seven and Four are ready to head out, so you need to go back to the comms. Five, since you're not a runner for the next couple weeks, we could use your help with other jobs around the township." She eyed them closely. "Hop to it before I put you both to bed rest for fever. Your faces are certainly red enough to merit that."


	24. The Break, Mission Log 9:9

Sam and Five somewhat sheepishly bid each other goodbye, Five heading slowly off to the food storage area and Sam retreating back to the comms. As she reached the rationing station, she was uncomfortably aware of the Abel citizens' eyes on her, each pair searching her body for any bites. She tried to be as open and polite as possible, reassuring everyone that she was all right, but she knew they noticed her obvious limp.

Fortunately, Five spotted Jack, Eugene, and Runner Eleven sitting in a corner having breakfast and made her way over before beginning her new food rationing duties.

"Five!" Jack said brightly as he spooned oatmeal into his mouth. "Glad to see you're up and about. You gave us a right scare yesterday!"

Five laughed. "If you were scared, imagine how_ I_ felt…"

"Are you feeling better, then?" Eleven asked her, making a space for Five to sit down.

Five nodded and plopped down beside the runner. "Yeah. I just tore up my calf and have to take a break from running for a while." She made a face. "Apparently I'm going to help with serving you guys food while I recover."

Eugene chuckled. "Can't be that bad. You're a runner, so you get extra rations anyway. Need the energy and all that. You'll just get first pick if you're helping to serve the food!"

"I don't want to be cooped up all day though. I'd rather be doing something else. I don't know. Cleaning weapons or helping in the comms or something."

"Hello, Five."

Five looked up to see Janine staring at her, her lips pursed and her arms crossed.

"Hi, Janine."

"Are you feeling better then? The doctor said you have no bites."

"Right. No bites," Five confirmed, loudly enough so that multiple curious onlookers could hear her. "Dr. Myers just says I have to take a running break for my calf."

"Yes. She informed me of your injury. Please head over to food storage now—they need your help rationing out the lunch portions for later."

"Sure." Five sighed and stood, turning toward the two radio DJs and the runner. "I'll see you guys later."

Five settled into the store room and began helping the rationing crew in documenting the food supply and helping to prepare lunch. Amid her work, Five could have sworn that she heard some sort of commotion in the main quad, but the noise only lasted a moment, so she returned to her work with a shrug.

After completing some of her duties, Five examined her own ration log. All the runners were treated to a little more food than those who stayed comfortably inside Abel's gates due to the extreme amount of energy spent running. Five inquired as to whether her rations would be limited to the normal portions, but Janine confirmed that this would not be the case; even in her brief absence, Five needed as full and balanced a diet as possible so she would not be weak when she returned to running duty.

However, as Five examined her large food rations, a small plan began to form in her mind. In her time off, she didn't need all the extra food. She had a better idea.

As she and the rest of the rationing crew doled out portions in preparation for lunchtime, she subversively asked one of the members if she could use her rations for something other than meals. If she could save her meals for someone else, for example.

The member shrugged; as long as her own health did not decline and she was not suffering from malnutrition, she could do as she pleased.

Satisfied with this answer, Five continued her work quietly, her small talk with the ration crew distant and distracted.

* * *

"Runner Five, please report to the comms station. Your manual assistance is required."

Five looked up from the loaves of bread she was sorting, her brow knit as she heard the announcement over the loudspeaker. What on Earth did Eugene need, and why did it sound as if he were on the verge of laughter?

"What's up?" she asked as she entered the comms room. Jack and Eugene turned to look at her, wide grins on their faces.

"We decided you needed a break from food rationing," Jack said slyly. "We told Janine we needed some extra help cleaning the comms, and, since you're technically extra help, we could ask you." He paused. "Yeah, we don't actually have anything to clean. You can thank us later."

Five laughed. "You'd better hope Janine doesn't find out about this…"

"Oh, we'll be fine," he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. "Come on, now, take a break. You're injured and deserve a bit of a rest."

"Oh, I see how it is," Eugene snorted good-naturedly. "Be nice to the injured runner, but not a poor cripple like me? Thanks for caring."

"Stop whining, you big baby," Jack retorted. "We're about to go live. You want everyone to hear you carrying on like that?"

"It would be better than listening to you," Eugene snapped. "All right, Five, we're about to go on air!"

Five nodded and smiled, sitting on a chair just away from the comms desk and watching interestedly.

The two DJs flipped their equipment on, introducing themselves happily and playing a short clip of someone named Paul who had called into the station with a survival suggestion—not washing any equipment.

"You know, I think we found your soul mate," Eugene said seriously at the end of the caller's message.

"What?" Jack asked, confused. "What do you mean?"

With a cheeky smile, Eugene began sniffing at Jack loudly, and Five had to stifle a giggle with her fist.

Jack gasped. "Rude!"

"You can't say it's not true!" Eugene laughed.

"If my unique odor does affect—"

"No, no, no, it's good," Eugene interrupted him with a smile. "You're keeping me safe from zombie attacks, obviously."

"Oh, shove off," Jack replied, turning back to his microphone earnestly. "Paul, I think it's a great tip. As we all know, survival is far more important than certain personal luxuries nowadays."

"Personal luxuries like hygiene," Eugene smirked.

Jack began counting on his fingers. "Hygeine, clean clothes, matching socks—"

"Oh don't start with that again. I told you, no one cares, and, you know what? You'll just have to make do with what you've got."

"Eugene Woods," Jack retorted. "I may smell like an Olympic weightlifter's underwear, but come on! One red sock, one blue sock? I have standards, sir!"

His partner chuckled. "I'll give you standards…"

As soon as they began playing their next song, Five rolled her eyes at the sly glance they gave each other.

"Dear God. Get a room, you two."


	25. The Break, Mission Log 9:10

The boys chuckled and continued their radio commentary, showing Five how everything worked and even talking about her on the air just to get a reaction.

"Oh, by the way, Jack," Eugene said later in the day during another song. "I have an announcement to make."

"Oh?" Jack and Five pestered their friend for information, but he refused to answer their inquiries regarding the nature of the message. When the song died down, Eugene cleared his throat, and Five was unable to tell whether his face showed embarrassment or amusement.

"Great stuff there Jack."

"Why thanks Eugene," Jack said brightly. "You're not doing too bad yourself."

"Well, thanks," his partner replied cheerily. "All right. This is quick shout out to anyone who was in the quad this morning. I'm sorry for flashing you. I—I had an unfortunate trouser-related malfunction and, well, um… I'm sorry."

Jack and Five burst into laughter, and she hoped her somewhat-quiet snorts weren't being picked up by the microphone. "You flashed in the quad? You didn't tell me about that!"

"Because I knew you'd find it funny!" Eugene insisted, his face red but lit with a smile.

Jack was struggling to hold back laughter. "What happened?"

"Well I—I was trying to readjust my crutch—_my crutch_—while I was out walking, and, well, I—I hadn't had done my belt up properly and we—my—my—" He paused. "My pants fell down."

Jack and Five couldn't contain their amusement any longer and it rang through the microphone.

"Oh—" Eugene continued, fighting not to laugh himself. "Oh, sure, thanks. You're_ so_ supportive. _Anyway,_ listeners, I'm sorry if you saw that. If not, let's forget I mentioned it. Here's a song."

It was a good thing Eugene switched the microphones off them, or Five's spasms of mirth would definitely have blasted over the radio.

* * *

As the days passed, Five began saving her rations and trading them in slowly for other items of food. As part of the rationing crew, no one questioned her, so she easily began collecting the items she needed. A little flour here, some cocoa there, a cup of sugar or two.

Five had everything she needed after about a week, and, one evening, she waited until everyone had gone to bed before sneaking back into the kitchens. This was strictly against the rules, and Five was perfectly aware of that, but she had to at least try to enact her plan. And if she were caught, she would simply tell the truth, as awkward as it might be.

Five knew this would be a pitiful attempt at baking. She had sneakily asked a fellow rationing crew member if he remembered any cake recipes as if she simply wanted to reminisce. He nostalgically recited one out loud, and she repeated it to herself about twenty times before she was relatively certain she could remember the gist of the process.

Whispering the recipe quietly to herself, Five began to mix the ingredients together in what she hoped was the proper format. The tiny oven in the kitchens she heated up to a minimal temperature in order not to waste energy, and she placed her tiny stretch of cake into the oven, wincing as the door squeaked noisily.

As the batter baked, Five sighed and started on the icing. She had no access to anything resembling ice cream; that was certainly not a luxury Abel had.

When the batter was done baking, Five retrieved it. She waited for what seemed like ages for it to cool, and then plopped the newly-made chocolate cake onto a spare plate. After piling on the few tablespoons of confectioners'-sugar icing she had managed to mix, Five spread the icing all over and rolled the cake up carefully, relieved that it only crumbled minimally.

She was done.

After quickly cleaning the kitchen, Five peeked outside the food storage area in trepidation; to her utter relief, a small light still shone from the comms tower. She wouldn't have to hide the cake in the residence halls until morning.

Five limped slowly, carrying the pitiful excuse for a roll cake and a fork across Abel toward the comms. Without hesitating, she entered the tower and stalked up the stairs, praying Janine, Eugene, and Jack were not here during this time of night.

Taking deep breath, Five knocked lightly on the door of the comms area. When a tousled, black-haired head opened the door and glanced out, Five's face broke into a smile.

"Hi, Sam," she said a little breathlessly, her face pink. "I—I have something for you."


	26. The Break, Mission Log 9:11

"Five, wha—"

Five lifted the plate hesitantly; when Sam's eyes fell on it, they widened considerably.

"Is—is that—"

"I don't know how it's going to taste," Five interrupted, her face flushed. "I couldn't make ice cream or anything, and I could only barely remember the recipe for cake…"

Sam opened the door to the comms wordlessly, and Five entered, too agitated to sit down at one of the empty chairs. Instead, she held the plate and fork out to him.

"I—I know you missed these," she said, stuttering slightly.

Sam walked to her unblinkingly after shutting the door, taking the cake and utensil in his hands. "How was this possible?" he asked quietly.

Five suddenly felt flustered, unable to gauge Sam's feelings regarding the surprise. "Runners get more rations than everyone else. You know that, obviously. And—and so I saved some of mine. I'm not running right now so I could afford to. So I just traded in some of my food portions for the ingredients and I tried to make this for you. Like I said, I… it might taste terrible…" Her voice trailed off with a squeak.

Sam swallowed. "You did this… for me?"

Five nodded nervously. For one wild moment, she thought Sam might think her stupid for wasting valuable food items on such a silly idea. However, Sam quietly set the plate and fork down on the comms desk.

Without another word, he reached out and grasped Five into a tight hug.

When Five had run into Abel township the night she was stranded, her terror and sobbing had obstructed any enjoyment of Sam holding and comforting her. Her mind had been filled with reverberating groans and her nostrils teemed with the stink of the undead.

Now, however, no such distractions existed. The comms towers was completely silent, and Sam's hug was solid and comforting, rendering Five completely out of breath. As the shock wore off, she finally wound her arms around him in return, leaning her head into his chest.

They broke apart—unwillingly, on Five's part, at least—and Sam smiled lopsidedly.

"Thank you…" he said. "I—I just can't believe you heard all that and remembered it too." He shook his head, sitting down at one of the rolling chairs and grabbing the plate again. "Want to share?"

Five smiled and sat down too, rolling close to him. "You try it first."

Sam shrugged, cutting into the small roll cake wannabe and placing a forkful of it into his mouth. He chewed, blinked, and swallowed, then handing the fork to the cook. She took it and tasted the cake as well, almost bursting into laughter as it touched her tongue.

It tasted nothing like a roll cake. It was, instead, a cocoa-flavored mess of flour and sugar. In fact, Five was unsure whether it could even qualify as cake. Or food.

"Oh, God…" Five said, swallowing with difficulty. "That's terrible!"

Sam burst into laughter. "I think I'm going to have to agree with you on that one."

The runner sighed. "I'm sorry, Sam. I wanted to do something special for you."

"You did," Sam insisted, setting the lumpy brown dough to the side. "I never, ever expected that someone would do this for me."

Five couldn't help but smile at that, her initial embarrassment vaporizing as she saw the truth in Sam's eyes. With another chuckle, they pushed the failed dessert to the side and talked deep into the night—and Five found she thought every ration she'd spent on the ordeal had become entirely worth it.


	27. Back to School, Mission Log 10:1

Five was eternally grateful to finally return to her running duties. True, she had greatly enjoyed temporarily working for the food ration crew and sneaking off to help Sam, Jack and Eugene in the comms, but when she tested her legs and felt only minimal pain in her calf, she knew it was time to start missions once more.

Stretching out in her uniform on a chilly morning, Five glanced at the comms tower and adjusted her radio slightly. She could see Dr. Myers and Sam fidgeting with the equipment, and, as she caught the gaze of the radio operator, she shot him a thumbs up. He returned the gesture and flicked the radios on with a sharp crackle.

"Remind me how this goes, Sam?" Dr. Myers asked.

"Okay, first," Sam explained professionally. "Tell Justin Miles, Runner Eighteen, on the door, to raise the gates."

"Raise the gates!"

Five looked up at the lanky teenage runner and gatekeeper, his ginger hair sticking out in all directions as he saluted to Dr. Myers and began opening the gate leading out of Abel.

"Then ask if Runner Five is ready," Sam directed.

"Runner Five, ready?" Dr. Myers asked, and then stopped, her voice dropping uneasily. "What do I do if Runner Five's not ready?"

Sam glanced in Five's direction with a small smile. "Nah, Runner Five is always ready."

"So, gates are open…"

Five tensed her muscles, and that familiar sensation—the adrenaline ready to pump her systems, the blaring of the raising gates, she staccato of the sniper's gunshots—rang through her body.

She was always ready.

Sam continued speaking, and Five swore he was almost talking to her rather than to the doctor. "They're covering fire, and—"

"Runner Five, special mission for the hospital," Dr. Myers said to her finally. "Go!"

Five took off through the gates, hurtling toward the forest as her trusty snipers took out a few zombies here and there. She made her way to a familiar path, slowed to an easy jog, and caught her breath.

"All right, you two," Five said through her radio. "How far to the university?"

Sam and Dr. Myers jostled for the microphone for a few moments, making it pop loudly in Five's ear. She winced but listened patiently as the two gave her the exact directions Runner Seven had the night before. She was headed in the right direction.

"You've been doing excellent work here, Runner Five," Dr. Myers said approvingly. "Just excellent. With all the medical kit and supplies you've picked up, our medical center's no longer at breaking point. We're keeping up with low-grade infections and accidents." Ever since the doctor had taken such good care of her after her night of terror, Five had grown to like her and had completely forgiven her for her icy demeanor upon their first introduction. "So. It's time for us to start investigating the contents of that box from the hospital."

"The special, mystical box of mystery that Runner Five picked up on the way in here?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, that seven-year degree I got was in mystical mystery," the doctor chuckled. "You weren't one of the people who believed in those anti-zombie charms at the start of the outbreak, were you?

Sam scoffed, but stuttered as he spoke. "Obviously not! …And I never got a special protective tattoo either!"

Five had to stifle a giggle as Dr. Myers laughed in incredulity. "What?" she gasped. "Those tattoos people got on their b—"

"You will never see that bit of me to find out!" Sam interrupted. "Besides, do you see me having got bitten by a zombie? Maybe it worked?"

"Runner Five," Dr. Myers said, turning her attention to the runner, who was determinedly _not_ picturing any sort of tattoo on any body parts of any specific radio operator at all. "I'm going to ask you to head towards the spire to the south. I badly need a confocal microscope and the university buildings are the place to look. You're likely to encounter a lot of shambling dead—I'm sorry. "

Sam sighed. "Should have made Runner Five get one of them tattoos on—"

Dr. Myers cut him off quickly. "Better just to run, Five."

Five rolled her eyes, continuing to jog. As she made her way down the dirt path that they had indicated, she began to see cracked concrete sidewalks and official-looking buildings.

"Listen, you two," she said to the duo. "Do you have those security cameras from the university hooked up to our system yet? I'm approaching the campus."

"Are they coming online?" Dr. Myers repeated.

"Yep," Sam replied. "Wow. Look at that. Janine knows her stuff. Security cameras all over the university on our little screen here. Wow, there's—"

"That's a lot of zombies," Dr. Myers said anxiously, and Five felt that familiar drop in her stomach whenever that dreaded phrase was uttered.

"Yeah. A lot. Why do they cluster like that?"

The two continued to comment on the hordes and their tendencies to form groups as Five crept closer to the outskirts of the campus. Not one building was damaged, nor was a single door caved in or window cracked. It looked simply as if its inhabitants had left, and the entire thing made Five uneasy. If she hadn't had Sam and Dr. Myers speaking in her ear, the utter silence of the place would have shot shivers down her spine.

To Five, her footsteps in the dirt sounded about ten times louder than they probably were. She came closer to the university on tiptoe, the pains in her calf only a small distraction. The main quad seemed to be surrounded by some sort of wire fence, and a huge hole was ripped out of the mesh in the middle like an open wound.

Those inside the now-useless fence were gone. Inside the compound, instead, stood—

"Look at that," Dr. Myers said quietly.

"Huh… what is that?"

"It looks like a makeshift lab," the doctor explained. Five listened quietly, approaching in trepidation. "In a tent in the middle of the university concourse. Where they would have been surrounded by fencing. Do you see the fencing?"

"I see where a big hole's been ripped in it," Sam replied grimly as Five stepped through the opening. "Pretty sure it wasn't Godzilla, so—"

"It looks like the zombies got in. They must have been trying to work right up to the end… You know, I think my girlfriend was working somewhere in here."

"What, Paula? She was working here? You never said—"

"Yeah." She paused, obviously wanting to change the subject. "Where's Runner Five?"

"There—there!" Sam chuckled quietly. "Got you on the first security camera coming into the university campus, Five."

"You're making good time, Runner Five, you're just getting to the lab now. What in the heck were they doing in that lab that was so important? If they were medical researchers from the university, the government would have tried to chopper them out."

"Did you hear anything at the time? Nose to the ground, ear to the… grapevine? Something?"

Five rifled through the lab, grabbing a number of medical supplies and scanning what looked like failed vaccines and lofty dreams for a solution. She crammed as much as she could carry into her pack, one ear on Dr. Myers and one on her surroundings, ready to sprint away at any sign of the undead.

"I was working nonstop emergency shifts at the start of the outbreak," the doctor explained. "At first trying to cure people, and then trying to sedate them, and then… ugh. Eventually we just started giving morphine overdoses to patients who arrived with the bite. It's not a _bad_ way to go. Peaceful. Then ne got some live samples of their blood, but I was too tired to make any sense of what we saw. I did hear that some hospital out West had managed to stop a couple people from reanimating by putting them into an insulin coma. Of course, then they were in an insulin coma—"

"Holy moly, Runner Five!" Sam yelped into the microphone, causing Five to jump and drop the box of painkillers she held. "Runner Five? There are eight zombies heading for your position from all over the campus!"

Dr. Myers's voice fell, a mix of worry and wonder. "It's like they know Runner Five is there."

"Yeah, they've got extra tingly spider sense. Or hearing. One of those. We need you to grab what you can from that tent. Keep running, Five!"

The runner didn't need to be told twice. She swept up the dropped box of medicine and stuffed it in her pack, zipping it up hastily and going out the way she came. She already had her escape route planned, but… Abel's radio operator and doctor interrupted her escape immediately.

"Do you see that?" Sam asked suddenly. "On the floor—the case? What is that? Doc? Does that—Is that your name written on the case?" Sam slowed his speech as if he were reading something. "'Dr. Maxine Myers.' Some numbers. 'VS-72.'"

Dr. Myers gasped. "Oh… I think I know what they were doing! Runner Five, I know you're surrounded, but you have to loop around and try to pick up that case. It's important!"

Five growled in irritation; she was already at the very edge of campus. Turning around, she saw all eight of the zombies headed in her direction. Instead of looping around like the doctor had suggested, however, Five had other plans.

Grabbing a pickaxe she had found on the way over, Five headed straight back the way she came. Without stopping, she quickly thrust the axe into the heads of the first two zombies, jumping over their fallen bodies and heading back toward the center of campus.

The other six zombies had noticed the intruder and began shambling her way. Luckily, Five was about twelve steps ahead of them and was already back in the lab tent, shuffling around for the case.

"Where the hell is it?" she called urgently, turning around. One zombie was now in the fenced pen with her. "Tell me!"

"On the ground next to the second table!" Sam said, his voice rather high-pitched. "The gray one, with black writing! You're right next to it!"

Five's eye fell on the case, and she did not hesitate. She grabbed it and swung it viciously at the zombie closest to her, and its head flew off with a crack. Using the case as a shield, she navigated around the rest of the zombies and bolted off campus, losing them quickly in the forest.

"Five, are you all right?" Sam asked, his voice lined with panic.

"Fine! I'm fine," she panted, holding the case beside her as she ran back to Abel. "It's not… clean, though."

"What—what is that thing?" the radio operator demanded.

"Paula was working here," Dr. Myers said faintly. "I—we hadn't seen each other for days and I didn't know what they were working on for sure, but—"

"Wow. That's crazy. You think she left you a clue?"

"Paula had been talking about the possibility of it, but there was no time to synthesize, no time for trials—"

"Don't leave us hanging, Doc!" Sam whined. "What's in the box?"

Five ran back into her township, the case dripping zombie entrails in her bloodstained hands.

"If it's VS-72, it could be… it could be the start of a vaccine."


	28. Alternates, Mission Log 11:1

Without stopping, Five jogged through Abel directly toward the comms tower. If anyone needed to see this case _now_, it was Dr. Myers. Breathing heavily, Five took the stairs two at a time and burst into the comms room, startling Sam so much he fell out of his chair.

"Five!" he gasped, scrambling back up. "You're back! I didn't even see you come in through the gate!"

"I think only Runner Eighteen did, actually," Five shrugged, grabbing a grubby towel from the comms desk and wiping down the collected case. "He raised the gates while you two were talking." She paused, slightly amused as her breathing returned to normal. "So much for paying attention to the runners…"

"Oh, shove off," Sam chuckled.

Dr. Myers stared at the case Five clutched, utterly ignoring their frivolous banter. "May I—may I see that?"

It was still covered in dried blood and bits of zombie, but Five handed it over immediately. Sam and the runner both stared as Dr. Myers opened the case carefully, her face expressionless. Five saw what was inside—piles of paper, what looked like glass vials with organic material and liquid, and a blank CD.

"F—Five," Dr. Myers said, staring at the contents of the box. "Could you give me a moment with Sam?"

The communications operator shrugged at Five, who confusedly left the room and stood outside in the hall. When the door opened a few moments later, Sam ushered her back in and shut the door behind her.

"All right, Five," Sam said briskly, rubbing his hands together. "For all practical purposes, you're going back out on your run, all right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well… you and Dr. Myers are going to stay in here a while, but it would raise some suspicion as to why a runner and the doctor would be in the comms room, of all places. So… I've already told Runner Eighteen to keep quiet about this and pretend to let you out again, all right?"

Five had no idea what exactly was happening, so she just nodded and sat down at one of the comms desk rolling chairs.

Dr. Myers finally looked up. "So can we, uh…"

"Oh—yeah, yep, that's fine," Sam said, his voice lower and much more serious than usual. "I'll tell them… well. How long do you think you'll need?"

"Just a normal run should be fine," she replied stonily.

"I'll tell them it's a meds run. I know you guys are okay for supplies for the moment, but I'll say you're running low on um... Cotton balls? Pencils?" He stopped, reddening somewhat. "…Condoms?"

"Tell them we're running low on penicillin alternates," Dr. Myers said without reaction, though Five's face turned a shade pinker than normal as well. "It's true anyway."

"Okay," he replied uneasily. "So… then… my corrugated iron tower is yours for as long as it takes. And uh… call if you need me."

"I'll be fine."

"If I could find a way to let you use the equipment completely alone—" Sam began wistfully.

"I know," the doctor cut him off, finally facing Five. "But it's okay. Runner Five could have died retrieving that box. If anyone deserves to know what's in it, you do, Runner Five. In among some research notes and samples, Paula left me an audio recording. I'm gonna play it now. For both of us. So. Runner Five, ready?" Five nodded, and Maxine turned to the radios to send out the faux signal to Runner Eighteen. "Raise the gates. Covering fire. And… run."

She sighed as Sam left the room quietly, watching to make sure no Abel citizens thought anything was amiss. The exit courtyard was empty, and no one seemed to notice that Five hadn't actually left the township. It was just another meds run. Sam would tell them, and no one would think anything of Five's absence.

When Five and the doctor had determined that the coast was clear, Dr. Myers sat back and held up a CD catching prisms of color in the light.

"She made a CD," she began almost incredulously, holding it delicately in her hand. "A _CD._ Like it was 1998. I guess she thought I'd be more likely to find something to play it on. Or that rain wouldn't damage it like if she'd left me an iPod? Maybe she _wanted_ her iPod. Anyway, only one place to play a CD in this township, and that's right here." She took a deep breath. "Okay. I can do—I can do this. Here we go."

An anxious line creasing her brow, Dr. Myers slid the CD in the proper player and turned it on. A low, female voice sounded through the room, and the doctor emitted a small gasp.

"Hello, sweetheart," Paula began. "If you_ are_ my sweetheart, that is. I suppose anyone could be listening to this. But I'm choosing to put that thought out of my mind. This is for my Maxine. Because the phones have stopped working. And I need to believe you're still alive, and that you'll hear this… one day." As Paula spoke, Five stared determinedly at a button on the comms desk, not daring to look over at Dr. Myers.

"I love you," Paula continued. "And I had to tell you, darling, best one. I want to imagine that I'm telling you what I saw. Because when I imagine I'm talking to you… I can feel your arms around my shoulders and that makes it easier. I know you wouldn't judge me or panic. And you've… always been able to calm me down when I felt afraid. I'm… so… afraid_,_ Maxi. Just _so scared._ I think—oh Maxi, I think I know who Patient 0 was."


	29. Alternates, Mission Log 11:2

The air suddenly quivered with a tension Five could only place as a mixture of amazement and fear. She dared not ask Dr. Myers what this meant, as she had immediately gripped her chair, her knuckles turning white.

"I'm just gonna try and tell you exactly how it was. Okay?" She began to imitate Dr. Myers' American accent. "Just facts, ma'am." After a moment of silence, she continued in her normal tone. "We were working on something. And… well, I don't even know how to begin to explain it. If you're Maxi listening to this, you'll know what it was already. And if not... well. You're looking for the research notes on VS-72." Paula continued, and managed to remember the location of the facility where the notes had been. "Well, I don't know how you'd even get in there—there are about fifteen people in the world who can understand those notes anyway—but if professor van Ark is still alive, you could try taking it to him. If you find it all, Maxi, you've got a better chance at most at finding whatever went wrong."

Five was having some trouble understanding exactly what Paula meant, but she refused to ask Dr. Myers, whose face turned as white as her knuckles.

"We were working on VS-72," Paula continued, "which we thought—I know it sounds crazy, but you know I'm not—we thought we might help the people. Really change the world. Make things better. It was supposed to—it was about cell regeneration. Like making people heal more quickly. That was the end. We had been working more than ten years. The first round of rats were amazing. We saw some total limb regeneration in adult rats. It was—well—we thought we'd win the Nobel prize."

At that, Paula gasped and went silent for a moment before getting the nerve to speak again. "…Get in soon. They're people. The walking dead." Five swallowed hard and did not even have to imagine the fear—the terror—of being pursued by the zombies. "We used to have soldiers here guarding us but they've been picked off one by one." She sighed. "God, I miss you so much right now."

_Oh… oh, no._ Five bit her lip. Paula's tone began to waver.

"I want to be able to talk to you because I think together we could work out what to do and—" The words tumbled out—pained, afraid, wrought with insecurity. "I miss snuggling up next to you. Holding you. I miss your arms around me, Maxi. I miss the way you smell… I'm starting to think I'll never see you again." Paula let out a terrified sob, and Dr. Myers smacked a button on the CD player, shutting it off abruptly.

"I'm sorry," she choked, her hands shaking. "I—I need to take a break."

Five nodded, unable to speak. She stood up quietly and left the room, leaning against the wall and taking deep breaths. She had not even known Dr. Myers's girlfriend and she could barely stand to listen to them. Five felt as though she were intruding on an intimate conversation.

Part of her thought of walking away and allowing Dr. Myers to listen to the rest of the recording on her own. However, before she could make a decision, Dr. Myers walked out and beckoned Five back inside. Her face was drawn, but her jaw was set. Five could see no trace of tears.

"Ready?" she asked quietly.

Five nodded, and the torture continued. Paula let out an agonized sob.

"We never meant any of this, Maxi. You know we didn't. It was our first human trial of our wonder drug. Just two weeks ago. It seemed like we were gonna save the world. We injected 50 people with their first shot, no problems. Sent them all home, and then one man—Patient 29—his wife called. Started to run a fever. She brought him in, we took a look. Seemed like nothing serious. We—we sent him home. God. We sent him home."

Five sat, frozen to the spot as the truth of the disaster flowed through the speakers. Paula's voice was low.

"She brought him again the next morning. Overnight, he'd—the fever spiked. She took him to the hospital. He collapsed; they thought he'd died. And then he woke up, and… bit someone. We were so sure it had nothing to do with us. I mean, biting—had to be rabies, maybe, or—or mental health issues. We were so sure. Until it was too late, we were so sure it had nothing to do with us. But Maxi, this happened to only one patient out of fifty! There must have been something about him. There must have been something different. But you need to find him. Patient 29. I never knew his name; it wasn't allowed. Patient 29. Go look for Professor van Ark's files. Find out what was different about him. It's the only way we can start to find out what's happened."

A harsh crunch sounded from the recording, making both women in the comms room jump. They were there. Breaking in. Paula gasped. "Oh—it's okay. It's okay. They haven't broken through yet. But we think they will. Oh, Maxi. I wish I was with you right now. I wish I could go on talking to you forever. But we're all taking a turn recording a CD for someone in the hope that they'll find it, so I have to stop in a minute. I'll put the CD in a sample case with your name on it. We—we haven't got very far, but we're trying to make a vaccine. There should be a way—if only it were VS-72 there could be a way to stop it. If you find it, maybe you'll succeed where we failed."

Dr. Myers—the stoic, dedicated, responsible doctor—at that moment allowed her face to crumple. Her body shook with a sob, and Five immediately tensed, a hard lump forming in her throat as well.

"We're going to fail," Paula continued, her seemingly strong voice tainted with anguish. "There isn't enough time. Maxi… this is all I really have to say. I love you. I love you. I love you." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I love you."


	30. Alternates, Mission Log 11:3

Five stood, immediately about to rush over to Dr. Myers, when someone knocked at the door. The runner froze—she was supposed to be out on a meds run, and no visitor could see Dr. Myers like this as the tears continued to flow down her cheeks.

"Knock knock," came a voice from the other side, and Five immediately sighed in relief. "I, uh—sorry—it's not the start of a joke. Actually, you're probably pleased it isn't the start of one of my jokes. Just—there are people waiting—" Sam strode in, and his face dropped like a stone. "Oh—!"

"I—I'm fine," Dr. Myers stammered, wiping her eyes furiously. "I—I'm fine—just—give me a minute, I'll be fine—"

There was another knock at the door; the cheerful complaining of Jack and Eugene filtered through the door, and Sam turned around, opening the door a fraction of an inch.

"No," he said to the DJs. "No, you—you can't come in yet, there's been a—ugh—yeah, I better start up the equipment again. Sorry." Jack and Eugene started protesting good-naturedly, poking fun at Sam's technical abilities. The comms operator laughed nervously and took it all in. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, sorry. Sorry. I'll sort it out. You'll have to come back in a little while though, 'kay?"

Finally, the two left, and Sam shut the door with a deep breath, locking it tightly and looking utterly at a loss for what to do with the crying doctor. She looked up, started to stand, and opened her mouth to speak, but Sam cut her off abruptly, shaking his head.

"N—no no, it's—it's okay," he insisted, turning back around to the door. "I can leave. It's okay; there's no reason to—"

"No, no, Sam," Dr. Myers replied thickly. "I—you're fine. I just need a few minutes."

Sam looked back toward the door. "They'll be back in a little while," he insisted. "You can take your time. Um… do you want me to leave you alone?"

"No." The doctor took a shuddering breath and gestured to the other rolling chair. "Stay. I'm going to play it again."

"Um… yeah." Sam hesitated before sitting down at the chair, glancing over at Five. "Okay." He nodded, and Dr. Myers scanned through the CD, starting the recording once more. Paula's low voice sounded through the comms room, and a chill ran down Five's back. She swallowed hard, mentally preparing herself for the onslaught of emotions.

"Hello, sweetheart…"


	31. VS-72, Mission Log 12:1

How Five wished she were just shopping for toys.

She passed by the toy store warily, heading toward the dark building attached to it.

"All right, Five," Dr. Myers sighed. "You listened to Paula's recording with me, so you know what we're doing here. Paula thinks she saw Patient 29—also called Patient 0, the first person to turn zombie—and we need to find that patient's files.

"You're aiming for a long building painted brown. Yeah, it looks like a warehouse attached to a toy store, but it's not. It's a disease research facility. The facility Paula mentioned, where she used to work. Head straight for it. If the door's not open, I've given you the code, which I should never have known."

Five was surprised to find that the facility still was securely locked. She entered the key code and tiptoed through the door. All was dark, save for the sporadic fluorescent lights still flickering in the hallway. Five had goose bumps just looking around the place; the sooner she found the files, the better.

"You deserve to know as much as I do, Runner Five," Dr. Myers continued. "Paula was working with this disease research facility, but she was also… she was working with Pandora Haze Technologies, that tech company. They didn't just make those cute kids' toys. They were doing some research… which sounded far out to me, then. Some stuff about massively increasing cell regeneration. But since everything happened, nothing sounds far out to me anymore.

"You'll have to be fast, Five. Zombies approaching from six o'clock. You're looking for the clinical trial patient records, Room 12-72. That's why they called it VS-72—because they were developing it there."

"All right," Five whispered back, passing through the various hallways. Her footsteps echoed painfully on the tiles as she searched. Rooms 12-36, 12-38, 12-40… They seemed to go on and on. Then:

12-72.

The door was locked. Five pulled violently at the door, but it refused to budge. She bit her lip, looking around for anything she could use—pliers, an axe, anything. She rummaged around in her backpack and found nothing but a spare metal baseball bat she had picked up on the way in. She only had one choice. Five winced, stationed herself on the ground, and swung hard at the glass window of the door.

With an ear-shattering clatter, the glass broke into a million pieces. Five jumped back and allowed the crinkle of the glass to die down before reaching carefully through the small window and unlocking the door from the inside. Her shoes crunched against the broken glass as she finally entered the room and turned on the lights.

The lab was of flawless stainless steel that had been cleaned of chemical spills and imperfections long ago. Old beakers and test tubes lined the shelves alongside a wall of technology Five could never hope to understand. One side of the room held a desk and multiple file cabinets.

Five crept over to one at random and began rifling through the papers, but nothing jumped out at her. The jumbled papers were sorted by category and labeled with complex chemical compounds. She frowned and opened another file cabinet, and then another. Nothing.

Finally, Five turned to the desk. A drawer on the side discreetly blended in with the rest of the metal, and when Five pulled, it was locked. Of course. After another round of smashing with the bat—five metallic clangs echoed through the facility—the lock broke free and Five pulled open the drawer.

There they were. _VS-72—Clinical Trial Patient Files_. Five nabbed them, hearing a loud clang from the end of the hallway and jumping just as Dr. Myers chimed back in with a warning: the zombies were breaking in.

Five looked down the hallway just to see that Dr. Myers was correct; the walkers were scratching and groaning against the door, and she could hear the cold scraping of the metal as they slowly broke their way inside.

With the files securely zipped inside her backpack, Five went in the opposite direction, hunting for the back door like Dr. Myers suggested. Thankfully, she found it without much trouble and sped out of the building just as the groaning's volume began increasing.

"Oh, thank God, I see you back on camera!" Dr. Myers breathed. "Keep going, you're fine. And if you have something from that facility now, I am more than grateful. They may not know it yet, but the world is more than grateful."

Five slowed to a steady jog, listening to Dr. Myers. The VS-72 files bounced steadily against her back.

"This is the deal, Runner Five. I know a lot that I was never supposed to. Pandora Haze Technologies was working with the government. It was a joint venture. They were looking for…" she shuddered as the gates lifted to grant Five entrance to Abel once more. "It was an investigation into the possibility of eternal life."


	32. Patient 29, Mission Log 13:1

"What?" Five yelped as the gates closed behind her. "Dr. Myers, I—"

"Shh!" she hissed. "Five, I need you to get Sam and come to the comms tower immediately. Did you find the files?"

"I think so."

In the comms, Dr. Myers opened the VS-72 files and spread them all out across Sam's desk. Sam and Five watched curiously over her shoulder as she worked.

"So we're supposed to be looking for the records of—" Sam began.

"Patient 29," Dr. Myers reminded them. "The patient Paula told us about on the recording. Patient 0. Now, just look through the files."

Sam and Dr. Myers shuffled the papers, taking them out one by one and examining them.

"'Kay," Sam said, patting a small stack of the files. "They're in order with photos attached." He picked up the middle of the pile carefully and read the patient profiles out loud. "Patient 27, Tom Evans. Patient 28, Parvati Sh—Wow." Sam's eyes widened. "Look at that photo. _Hello_, Parvati."

Five peeked over. A girl with flowing black hair framing large, doe-like eyes smiled from the picture. Sam's eyes trailed to the bottom of the frame, where the young woman—quite well-endowed—wore a low-cut blouse.

Five frowned.

"That's not—" Dr. Myers interrupted irritably, but her eyes fell on the picture as well and she stopped. "Oh, yeah…" she trailed off, gazing at the picture as well. "I hear that… Mmm…" Five pursed her lips and cleared her throat loudly. Dr. Myers jumped and glanced a little sheepishly at her. "A—anyway, just carry on."

Sam stole another small glance at Patient 28 before continuing. "Patient 30, John Bishop. Patient 31—"

"Did you miss anything?" Dr. Myers interrupted.

Sam looked back at the previous pictures. "Well, apart from Parvati's—"

"Patient 27, Patient 28, Patient 30, Patient 31—"

"No patient 29," Sam realized. "Or did you… take the file out already?"

"No. But someone did." Dr. Myers and a rather disgruntled Five shifted through the papers to make sure they had not missed anything. "Someone knew this file was important and got there ahead of us. And I think I have an idea who."

"Who?" Five asked, discreetly plucking the patients' files out of Sam's hands and putting them back in their proper folder.

Dr. Myers bit her lip. "Well, one night after listening to Paula's recording again, I left it playing, and at the end of the recording there's a—a last track. I thought it was blank, but actually there's a long gap—maybe 15 minutes, and then there's… well, I'll cue it up for you so you can hear it yourself."

After a quick preparation of the CD player once more, Dr. Myers stood back and gazed out the window.

"I haven't got much time." Paula's low voice sounded through the comms office. "Listen. Something weird is going on. We're down to our last few people here. They choppered some out yesterday, and they said they'd come back for the rest of us, but so far we haven't heard anything." There was a pause. "And this morning, I woke up early. Can't sleep with that blasted noise. And I found one of the researchers burning his notes. I stopped him, asked him what the hell he was thinking—even if we die here, we leave them in waterproof bags, someone else might find them, and he said that Professor Van Ark at Pandora Haze had been on the radio overnight and told him to destroy them. To destroy all the evidence that we found that the zombie virus is linked to our VS-72. Our cell regeneration research.

"It—makes no sense. That's not true, it makes one kind of sense. That Van Ark is trying to cover something up. So look. Try the lab first, but that's Van Ark's lab; if he's told us to destroy our research, then he's told them to get rid of theirs as well. So otherwise go to the Keeley Center, the government place. They were supposed to look over our files and just return them, but I know that more than once they actually copied files before giving them back. Try there.

"We need to find Patient 29 in the VS-72 trial. If you can find out what was different about him, you might find out how all this happened."

The recording crackled and died. It was done.

"Hmm…" Sam said. "Okay, that's simple enough." He looked up at Dr. Myers, apprehensive. "And did she say they were being choppered out? Well, you can't think that—"

"We can't think like that, Sam." Dr. Myers's voice was short and reprimanding. Sam snapped his mouth shut.

"Yeah," he relented. "Uh yeah, yeah. I know, sorry."

"The next thing we have to do is send you to the Keeley Center, Runner Five," Dr. Myers said seriously, changing the subject. "I know it's terrible that you're the one running all these errands, but—"

"It's fine," Five insisted. "Really. I get that we have to keep all of this secret for now, and I'm the only runner that really knows everything. I just… you both really need to have my back when I'm doing all this, all right?" She reddened a little. "It freaks me out going there alone after what happened… that night."

Dr. Myers nodded. "We'll be here for you, as usual. Now, go get some rest, all right? Tomorrow we'll have you over at the Keeley Center to look for Patient 29's information." She stopped and blinked. "You're fine with that?"

Five nodded. Dr. Myers had never asked her about going on a mission before, and she felt honored to have been asked this seemingly trivial question.

"Yes, Dr. Myers."

"Good. I think they're about to serve dinner, so you'd better head to rationing."

Five and Sam left Dr. Myers at the comms—she had wanted to listen to Paula again.

"Do you think she's all right?" Five asked, glancing back at the comms tower. "I can't even count how many times she's listened to that recording."

Sam sighed. "I dunno. It takes time to get over losing someone like that. I'm just glad people aren't suspecting something strange is going on."

Five nodded. Sam had been telling everyone that Dr. Myers's free time had recently been spent poring over maps of abandoned hospitals and medical sites in order to figure out where to send Five for more supplies. And, dutifully, Five had gone out to collect said "supplies."

"Hopefully I'll be able to find the right supplies tomorrow," Five said cheerfully as they sat down with the others for dinner—canned beans over the precious little rice rations Abel still possessed.

Sam grinned. "Hopefully."

"You two were gone for forever today!" Jody, Runner 4, piped up. She sat beside Rajit, the self-proclaimed-author-turned-shower-controller, who was studiously scribbling on a scrap of paper with a half-chewed pencil. "Did your run really take that long, Five?"

"Yeah, unfortunately," Five replied smoothly, spooning some rice into her mouth. "What did I get for checking that abandoned pharmacy on Woodside? Nothing but condoms."

Sam choked on his beans, and Jack had to turn around and slap him on the back before he recovered.

"What a waste." Jody shook her head, setting her empty plate aside and pulling out a needle and some yarn. "I ended up finding a lot today," she continued as she began to knit. "A ton of yarn and fabric. We can definitely start making some new clothing with it. The kids are already growing out of theirs."

"That's great," Five smiled, turning to her bunk mate. "Did you find anything, Ells?"

Runner Eleven shrugged. "Some old microphones and head sets. They were on some dead zoms no one recognized."

"Who's on break tomorrow?" Eugene asked. He sat down in between Jack and Eleven, groaning a little as he set down his crutches. "I've got to know who's ass I'll be having to haul if we somehow get attacked."

Eleven, who was, in fact, off the next day, poked him good-naturedly.

"What about you, Five?" she asked as Eugene rubbed his arm, complaining. "Do you get a break tomorrow, too?"

Five shook her head. "No, I have another meds run."

"Another?" Jody asked. "You've had so many this week!"

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll get a break once I find something besides contraceptives."

"Maybe I can help you out," Eleven suggested. "I can choose to be on duty, if you want."

"No," Sam and Five said quickly at the same time.

"You need your rest," Five replied.

"She has it covered all on her own," Sam said.

"Oh, I'm sure she has it _covered_," Jack chuckled in a low voice. Eugene snorted loudly.

Eleven laughed. "All right, if you say so. But you need your rest too, Five."

"Which is why I'll be heading to bed now," Five smiled, standing up and returning her bowl to the rations area. Sam stood and followed suit. "Good night, guys."

A murmur of replies called back to her, and she and Sam disappeared from sight.

"They're starting to suspect something," Five said nervously. "Don't you think?"

"Don't be silly, they're just messing around. Saying you only found condoms was brilliant."

"Yeah, well, I was starting to think you'd actually need some after you kept drooling over Parvati," Five responded dryly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Just because I can appreciate a looker when I see one doesn't make me a drooling caveman."

"No, you're right," Five grinned. "You were always a drooling caveman in my book."


	33. Patient 29, Mission Log 13:2

It was almost like civilization.

True, the Keeley Center was old and abandoned, but it remained mostly untouched by the undead. For all practical purposes, all of the employees were just coincidentally on holiday at the same time. Five found herself more unnerved by the vapid emptiness and relative stability of the place compared to the dark laboratory hallways of the facility she had explored the day before.

Five peered around quietly, and, for the hell of it, pressed a round little button in the wall. To her complete surprise, it lit up and she heard a shuffling from in the wall.

"The elevator works here!" she cried to Sam and Dr. Myers.

"What—an elevator?" Sam replied incredulously. "Ride it, ride it! It'll be fantastic, just like a roller coaster—well, not exactly, but compared to what we have now—"

"Focus, Five," Dr. Myers interrupted. "Don't go in that elevator. We'll lose signal with your radio, and if it breaks or gets stuck, that'll be a whole mess of problems we don't want to deal with."

The elevator doors clanked open invitingly, but Five turned away from them with a wistful sigh.

"All right, Dr. Myers. Taking the stairs then, the old-fashioned way."

When she reached the third floor, Five began searching for the proper room once more.

"Okay, Runner Five, you're on the third floor now," Dr. Myers said. "Do you see— just in front of you is an office labeled Dr. Samuka. He was Paula's liaison with the government here at the Keeley center." The door was right in front of Five and she entered, looking around the room. It was like a miniature library, filled with books and papers and maps. "I need you to check through his files. we're looking for anything labeled VS-72. Or Pandora Haze. It might take a while."

"No, we haven't got a while!" Sam gasped. "Look!"

"What?" Five said urgently, freezing in the middle of checking through some folders.

"It's a…"

"That is a man moving by the trees!" Sam said. "He's signaling to that helicopter! Something's coming. Whatever you're gonna find, Runner Five, find it fast, and get moving!"

A thrill of panic shot icily down into Five's stomach, and the papers fluttered to the ground as she scanned through them feverishly. They had to be here. Somewhere. Anywhere.

The pattering of the oncoming helicopter began resounding in Five's ears, and she worked faster, accidentally knocking over a vase with dead flowers to the floor, shattering it and spreading the moldy water all over the carpet. Then, she saw it. A small, nondescript manila folder labeled VS-72. With a quick flick, Five opened it and saw the exact label she had wanted: _Patient 29—Arthur Gherkin._

"It's landing. It's… it's not from the military, look at it. It's painted with the Pandora Haze logos. How are those guys even still alive?"

"They had a lot of money. That's what it takes to survive. Have you found anything, Five?"

"Yes!" she replied, tucking the folder into her backpack and speeding out of the room back down the stairs. "Patient 29!"

"Good," Dr. Myers said. "Bring it back, Five; we'll see what we can work out."

"Better head out the back," Sam instructed. "There are three people from that chopper coming in the way you entered the building."

Almost tripping over herself, Five twirled in the other direction and ran down the opposite hallway.

Dr. Myers gasped. "Is that—"

"Runner Five, two people are heading towards the back of the building! You need to get out of there, now. Run!"

"I only met him a couple of times at Christmas parties, but…"

Five could hear voices and the door breaking down at the main entrance; she sped out the back doors and into the sunlight.

Sam finally saw her. "Runner Five, good, just—just keep going. They won't spot you if you go now. Now! Now, now, _now!_ Out into the woods—run!"

With a burst of speed, Five skidded behind a large concrete side-building labeled _Hazardous Materials—Do Not Enter._ The forest was still a good fifty feet away from where she hid in pure daylight, her only cover this tiny building. The stench of forgotten waste reached her nostrils as she panted.

"I'm sure that's him," Dr. Myers's voice trailed through the radio, horrified. "That's his face! That's Professor Van Ark!"

"You—you're joking!" Sam gasped. "N—I thought he was—"

"Five, you have to get out of there! The place is swarming with his men."

"I can't," Five whispered, daring to peek around the side building. The helicopter had landed on top of the Keeley Center. People in uniform crowded it almost like the undead. They crashed down doors and Five could hear windows shatter sporadically. "They'll see me. There are too many."

She watched as the men filled the building, rushing around and calling out to one another. The hazardous materials shack Five hid behind was far too close for comfort; the men only needed to come about three meters away from the main building to see her hiding there. She could even hear snippets of their conversations.

"Check the third fl—"

"—Samuka's studies, right over—"

"What the hell happen—"

"They're gone!"

"Oh my God!" Five whispered. "They know the documents are gone! They just broke in!"

"Oh, no," Sam moaned. "Five, you—"

"Shh!" she interrupted, straining her ears.

"Send out a search!" a stern voice commanded. "They can't have gone far. Look at this spill—the robber was just here."

Five squinted and looked up to the third floor windows. A tall, permanently-frowning man stared out of the window. He was clean-shaven—clean at all, for that matter—and wore a pristine white laboratory coat.

Without having Dr. Myers point him out, Five knew exactly who he was.

"They're sending out a search!" Five squeaked, her eyes locked on Professor Van Ark. "Oh God, they'll find me!"

"Five, run this second," Dr. Myers said. "Head straight behind you into the woods. If you run fast enough, the men at the top of the building won't know who you were until you're gone. You don't have time to wait. Stay in the building's shadow as long as possible. Go!"

Without even thinking, Five sprinted across the shadow, her eyes on the woods. They would see her. They would definitely see her. There was no way they wouldn't see her.

…They didn't see her.

Before she knew it, Five was safe in the shadows of the trees, heading back the way she came.

"Five! Oh wow, that was fantastic," Sam said. "Look at them, they're crawling around the place now. Just checked that shack you were hiding behind."

Five didn't answer—didn't speak until she had made it back into Abel. She stumbled in, exhausted, but she had done it. She had found the files.

There was no celebration that evening, however. No one could shake the fact that fellow humans were out for blood. That they knew the files had been stolen.

There was nothing Abel could do about that, Dr. Myers insisted. They just had to buckle down and continue testing. The files were in the right hands.

For once, Five could relax.


	34. Darkness and Demons, Mission Log 14:1

Five stumbled into Abel Township, panting and exhausted. That zombie horde had been far too close for comfort. She blamed the heavy backpack she dropped on the ground with a huge thud.

"You know," she gasped, clutching a stitch in her side. "This would have been a lot more rewarding if I had, you know, collected supplies that would actually help us _survive_."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Sam cried, shuffling through her backpack. He pulled out some small metal figurines and the thick book she had collected on request: _Darkness and Demons: A Complete Guide_. "This is of utmost importance!"

The Abel residences crowded around Five's backpack as well, excitedly passing around her newfound booty—a smattering of novels, comic books, movies, and, of course, Hungry Hungry Hippos.

Dr. Myers studied the Darkness and Demons game intently.

"This is perfect," she finally said. "We have all of the game parts, plus the Croatic module, _Evening of the Shambling Ones_. I still can't believe that it was available outside the States."

"We should set it up tonight after the hall meeting!" Sam responded, flicking through the rule book. "And costumes. We have to have costumes. Jody said she found some extra fabric on her run yesterday. I'm sure we could make do with that. It'll be perfect."

Five rummaged through her pack as well, extracting some very specific clothing she had been able to grab. Two of the items she had found abandoned in a garden, and the other had come last-minute from her final stop, the comic book store.

"I'll play with you guys on one condition," Five said to Sam cheekily, hiding the items behind her back.

Sam stopped reading the Darkness and Demons book and looked up. "What? Conditions? I thought you were all excited about—"

"I'm only going to play," Five interrupted matter-of-factly, "if you wear these."

She held up two of the three items—skin-tight green trousers and matching rubber gardening gloves.

"What on Earth—"

"If Aquaman was good enough for your ex-girlfriend, it's good enough for me," Five said haughtily, though her face reddened somewhat. "You can dress up for the game tonight."

Sam laughed out loud. "You're actually serious! Fine, fine. I'll cosplay just for this."

"And don't forget about these," Five continued, smirking. She held out a pair of underwear—dark purple with bright yellow exclamation points. "Bonus if you wear this underneath."

"You are a little devil, you know that?" Sam grinned, taking the underwear. "That won't be hard, considering I actually always wanted the Perplexor costume." He examined the underwear for a moment before looking up. "But If I wear something, you have to as well."

"What?" Five complained. "That was never part of the bargain!"

"It is now."

Sam went back to the backpack, sorting through the costume pieces and articles of clothing Five had snagged from her entertainment run. Finally, he lifted up a costume item that had randomly caught Five's eye—an obnoxiously sparkly green tank top and skirt.

"That?" Five asked skeptically. "What the hell character is that?"

"That, Runner Five, I believe is part of a Poison Ivy costume," Sam mused. "However, given the circumstances and our little theme going, I think you can use it to be Mera."

"Mera?"

"Yep. She's the Queen of Atlantis."

Five took it and dangled the material between her fingers. "I must finally be going insane."

"It's about time you caught up with the rest of us."

* * *

Before Five knew it, she was sitting at a large, round table inside Janine's home. Janine herself stood somewhat disapprovingly behind the table, watching the ridiculously-clad Abel residents plan out their game of Darkness and Demons. Five sat among them, squirming in the decidedly too-small green costume. She had dreaded joining the game after seeing herself in the green glittery mess, but hell—if she faced hordes of bloodthirsty zombies almost every day, she could certainly face a little cosplay and role-playing.

Besides, once she entered the room, she realized her costume was nothing compared to what the other residents had conjured. Considering no one had fake dragon wings or full suits of armor, everything had been whittled down to one simple rule: dress up.

Now, the sensible Dr. Myers wore what looked like an old purple curtain around her shoulders like a cape and a newspaper rolled into a cone marked with penciled-in stars. She was their ringleader—the Royal Warlock Vizier or something like that. Jack and Eugene had scrounged up matching togas from the bed sheets at the hospital, Runner Four had knitted herself a fast pair of cat ears and matching mittens, and even Eight sported a brown vest and a bow and arrow a la Robin Hood.

Five sat next to Sam and simply could not stop smirking. He had squeezed into the little green pants and wore his orange hoodie with the green rubber gloves.

"Nice costume, Aquayao," Five smirked.

"You're in this, same as me," Sam retorted, shaking a rubbery green finger at her. "Aren't you glad I decided not to just come in the Perplexor underpants? Then I'd be about as half-dressed as you."

"I think we're all glad of that," Runner Eight replied primly, scanning the Darkness and Demons game laid out on the table. "Shall we begin?"


	35. The Bikini, Mission Log 15:1-18:1

Five thought the newfound games the Abel Township citizens were able to play would result in a spreading of peace; everyone would be too distracted to question Dr. Myers's strange behavior and secrecy as she locked herself in the hospital at night, performing tests and doing God knows what else. Five believed that the board games and novels and continuous rounds of Darkness and Demons might afford the citizens some respite from the moaning hordes that passed by in ever-increasing numbers.

However, no such relaxation occurred. If anything, the time to play gave Abel more time to think—more time to worry.

Besides, the past few missions had only given them more cause for confusion. First, Five, Four, and Eight had discovered the mysterious piles of zombies with perfect gunshot wounds to their heads and countless loaded guns scattered around them. It had been a successful trip to bring home supplies, but no one could explain the phenomenon. And they had been chased back by _running_ zombies.

Then… and then, Five had found Lem.

Lem. Runner 38—the New Canton runner who had given her his headset after being bitten. The New Canton runner who had saved her life by leading the zoms away in exchange for saving his. Five had half expected any New Canton runner to be some sort of villain—almost as bad as the undead—but this man simply did not fit the bill. Five had worn Lem's headset on the rest of that run with a horrible feeling in her stomach, as if she were being swallowed from the inside out. Five could have been Lem at any point. One wrong step, one stumble. She had to ask herself… would she have done the same had she been in Lem's position?

Thankfully, Five was too busy to brood on such things. After having met Sam's idol, Chris McShell (or Runner 10, or "Zombie Slayer," named thusly by Sam), on a run that ended up outsmarting the hordes and resulting in a successful supply trade with New Brunswick, Five convinced herself she was too tired to dwell on such things.

Five liked Runner Ten. He was quiet and had the habit of pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose when thinking too hard. Five hadn't really gotten to know Ten very well during her time at Abel—part of her thought he didn't like her very much—but he was simply introverted. The strong, silent, intelligent type who spent his days excused from shower cleaning duty so he could continue his statistics analysis and zombie research.

"Hey, Runner Five," Sam said at dinner the evening after her run with Ten. He plopped down beside her on the bench. "Um… how you doing there after your night run through zombie territory? You had a pretty nasty trip on your mission today. Are you still hurt?"

Five chuckled. "Sam, it's been weeks, and you're still asking me that. I'm telling you, I'm great. I only tripped today because of my own clumsiness."

Sam sighed and began cracking open a tin of pears. "I know you said you were fine, but are you sure you—"

"Runner five's doing fine," an amused Dr. Myers interrupted, sitting down beside Runner Ten on the opposite bench. "Did the check up myself. No cuts, no contusions, no broken bones. That break she took did her good."

"No bite marks," Sam added. "It's pretty fortunate when you consider that long, dark run…"

"Yeah, it's useful data for us. We're building evidence that the walking dead may have poorer night vision than we thought."

"Yeah, although," Sam chuckled nervously. "Not poor enough for us to start risking night operations, right?" Dr. Myers was quiet for a second, and Sam looked up sharply. "Right?"

"I don't think anyone sees any need for that, Sam," she replied calmly.

"Good." He sat back and fidgeted with his hands. "Because… I can't cope with another one of those."

Dr. Myers smirked and Five was saved a moment of embarrassed silence by Ten's quiet voice.

"The doctor's right, though, Sam," Ten said as he speared a pear with his fork. "Five's given me a lot of valuable information from her runs and ours today."

"That was incredible, what you did!" Sam said excitedly, likely thankful for a change of subject and nearly toppling over the canned fruit. "What does that make you at, 383 zombie kills?"

Ten's face burned uncomfortably. "387, if you want to count today, actually."

"387!" Sam echoed. "Unbelievable. With Chris around, you don't even need me to be your radio operator!" Sam stopped suddenly. "I mean—well—don't get any funny ideas, now. You still need me. I'm very importa—"

"You know, in terms of zombie behavior, their pattern of following us doesn't really make sense because my research—"

"Because what?" Sam laughed. "Because you don't get to kill enough of them, y—you big zombie killer!"

"Because my research indicates that zombies can detect when a group of humans are heading for the same area. It's uh—a sort of herd instinct. They swarm together and they can tell when we're swarming too."

"Ooh—is, that, why you left new canton then? Too many people swarming together? Not enough opportunity for the zombie killing action?" A pear plopped to the ground in the wake of Sam's awed enthusiasm.

"Sam, I left new canton because they wouldn't listen to reason. And wouldn't let me conduct my research. That's all. My research is all I've got left."

Sam scratched his head uncomfortably, relenting. "Yeah, I know… sorry, man. Got carried away. The thing is, Five, Runner Ten is… sort of a genius."

Ten was visibly embarrassed. "Not really. What I've done is really very simple. Before the outbreak I was a teacher. Statistics, mostly. I started to do some statistical analysis of zombie movements. Ah—when my wife…" He trailed off, and Five avoided his gaze. "Nothing happened to me that was worse than anyone else. My wife was eaten on our front lawn, and, um, my daughter… she's ten, she'd been on a scout camping trip… couldn't reach them by phone. Still don't know what happened to her. She must still be alive. It's not a worse story than average... statistically."

Five shook her head, giving Sam the don't-you-dare-make-another-zombie-killer-joke look. "Just because we've all gone through things doesn't make it any less terrible. I'm sorry, Ten."

"Yeah…" Sam trailed off, going quiet. "Sorry, Ten."

Ten shrugged. "I have my work now to keep me occupied. We all do."

They continued to eat their canned fruit, and Janine brought a fresh tray of peanut butter sandwiches.

"Thanks, Janine!" Sam said happily. "I had no idea we still had so many peanut butter rations—"

"Have you told Runner Five what's happening on her next mission, Mr. Yao?" That was Janine. No pleasantries. All business.

Sam looked up, his mouth stuffed with sandwich. He swallowed and cleared his throat.

"Well, you know, I thought about it, but then I remembered how you seemed pretty convinced that I didn't explain things properly on that last electronics run with Runner Two—"

"Yes, I hear that the delightful David Robinson will be coming out of hospital soon."

Sam growled. "I was not responsible for that."

"If you argue with my direct order, Mr. Yao, then you are going to confuse your runners, making it more likely that they'll run into hostile territory." She gestured at Five, who raised an eyebrow.

"Janine, seriously, it's fine—" Five began.

"Or another way of putting that, Janine," Sam spat, "is that if you don't let me do my job properly—"

"Runner Five," Janine said shortly, ignoring Sam. "Where is the headset you picked up from that runner from New Canton?"

"It's at the comms," Five replied, nonplussed.

"You will be wearing that on your next mission," Janine continued. "We're hoping that you'll be able to pick up some useful info on your usual run for tech supplies. I'll be in the comms as well, so if you get confused at any time, you can just listen to my voice."

"Or my voice!" Sam whined.

"_My _voice."

Dr. Myers and Runner Ten took one look at each other, stood up, and left the table. Five watched them, wishing she could escape from the impending storm, but, as she was the topic of conversation, that was certainly not an option.

"Don't try to take over my comms job!" Sam said.

"Well, all of you have taken over my home, Mr. Yao," Janine replied icily. "It is the least I can do. I suppose it was too much to hope that I'd be able to live alone in an old farmhouse with fixed stone walls for long. Wasn't long before the hordes descended."

"Zombies," Sam said darkly.

"No. You. And all these other people seeking shelter."

"Hey!" Sam protested. "We've helped out around here, haven't we? We've grown stuff. Built stuff. Heh— anyway, you're totally lying about that quiet life thing. I know your secret."

Janine crossed her arms. "My secret?"

"I hear things, you know," he continued smugly. "I meet a lot of people in this position. Talk to a lot of people. And some of those runners, when I save their lives, they're really grateful. The female runners, especially." He smirked. "So grateful."

Five rolled her eyes, going back to her own sandwich. Janine's gaze flickered toward her and she raised an eyebrow.

"Grateful enough to… thank you lightly, Mr. Yao?"

Sam stopped and glanced down at Five, who was determinedly ignoring him. He seemed to deflate a little. "Yeah, pretty much exactly that grateful," he admitted.

"And they told you my secret?"

"Yep!" Sam said brightly. "We found your old photos. You had a boyfriend. And you wore a bikini!"

Five groaned, exchanging a look with Janine. "It wasn't me," she clarified. Janine nodded curtly.

"Ah. Yes. Quite the deepest, darkest secret you could possibly imagine. I don't suppose you go on imagining it, Mr. Yao. For your own sake."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll be forced to shoot you in the head. Have a nice evening."

She turned and walked away, and Five stood up as well, collecting her plate.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"To leave you with your thoughts of Janine in a bikini," Five replied dryly.

"Wha—no, it's not like that!" he protested. "I was just trying to—to get a rise out of her! You know that!"

"Right. And I apparently am a part of the female runners just falling all over you for saving my life. I appreciate that description."

"I—Five!"

"Good night, Sam." Five walked away, not looking back at him. If he was going to start telling tales about how much everyone wanted him, he was going to have to do it alone.


	36. Nadia's News, Mission Log 18:2

"How do you two expect me to pick anything up from New Canton if you keep arguing in my ear!?" Five panted, exasperated.

Her run, accompanied by both Sam and Janine over the comms, had turned out worse than she expected. When they weren't fighting over something, they were interrupting each other for Five's attention and generally scattering her thoughts from New Brunswick to London.

"Don't worry," Janine replied. "You're doing well, Runner Five."

"Hey! That's _my_—" Sam gave a frustrated huff. "Yeah, you're doing very well, Runner Five. Everything within normal mission parameters; speed's good, see? You've outpaced those zoms, really close to Abel. You'll be back in a few minutes."

"Yes. Moving on, it is rather troubling that we should have to resort to subterfuge to spy on other humans, as I'm sure Runner Five agrees. Nonetheless, we have no option. New Canton set a deliberate trap for Runner Five. We need to find out what their plans are. Obviously, this mission was too dangerous to do any real reconnaissance work—"

"Wait, quiet!" Five yelped. "I can hear something!"

She had been catching snippets of New Canton's transmission, but this was louder. Far louder. It was… Nadia. That comms operator from New Canton.

"…Those will be useful tools for us in the future," she was explaining to her runners. "Yeah, the Council says we're running low on some supplies they're hoarding up at Abel Township." Five's stomach dropped. "No, I don't trust those bastards either. They're probably the ones that let Lem get bitten. Yeah." She paused, listening. "We'll be raiding them next week."

Five shrieked as she ran into Abel.

"What—what is it?" Sam called.

"They're planning an attack, Janine!" Five gasped, looking toward the comms tower. "They're going to raid us in a week!"

Five heard Janine stand up. "Five, I need you to memorize everything you just heard and meet me in my home immediately," Janine commanded. "I am going to go get Dr. Myers and a few other Abel citizens who need to hear about this. Sam, fetch Runners Seven, Eight, Ten and Eleven. Tell them we need them for an emergency Town Hall meeting. Tell no one else. Go."

Five ran through Nadia's words in her mind repeatedly until she reached Janine's home, the town hall. She entered the front door after knocking (she was never able to shake the habit of knocking, even after all this time) and began walking around the kitchen table in circles, unable to sit down. A raid. They were going to raid. They were going to attack.

As soon as everyone called had sat down around the large, round table, Five relayed the information shakily, pacing. She was too antsy to sit.

"Oh, God…" Runner Eleven breathed, running her hands through her hair. "Only a week to prepare."

"We have to try negotiating with them first," Dr. Myers suggested. "Maybe we can avoid this whole mess."

"No, Maxine." Runner Seven shook his head. "You know that can't be done now. Remember what happened the last time we sent someone over there to collect supplies?" He gestured at Five. "We can't afford to lose any more runners at night like that."

"Unfortunately, Runner Seven is right. Our radios don't even reach that far, so the comms aren't an option," Janine said briskly. "And, please, take a seat, Five. You're going to pace a hole in my floor." Five stopped and sat down on a side bench next to Sam, but didn't look at him.

Eleven frowned. "And sending an email? Rofflenet?"

"Absolutely not," Janine continued. "Our email security over Rofflenet is shaky enough as it is. Trying to communicate with them that way would just give them a chance to hack our system. Remember Tess? That New Brunswick girl who tried stealing our laptops for New Canton? They would use this as a ripe opportunity to hack us."

"That's it, then?" Sam asked. "Just like that? We're going to war?"

"Our best chance of survival is the creation of defense, now," Runner Ten agreed.

As the others continued discussing tactics, Five felt sick to her stomach. This was wrong. The humans were supposed to be fighting other zombies. Not humans. They were supposed to stick together and assist each other.

She looked at all of her fellow Abel citizens. Her friends. Dr. Myers, who cared for everyone and anyone. Runner Ten, who spent hours solving statistical models just to defeat the hordes. Janine, gruff and militaristic but good all around. Seven, so reassuring and calm. Sam—who was a pain in the ass.

Five only looked at Sam for a second before glancing away. She was in no mood to speak to him. Not lately. She could feel his eyes on her, but she unwaveringly stared toward Ten, listening only vaguely to his latest zombie avoidance strategy.

"What's wrong?" Sam whispered.

"Nothing," she replied, her voice barely audible as Eight began relaying how much ammunition Abel needed.

"That's a load of rubbish," he responded. "Was it what I said yesterday? The bikini comment?"

"No," Five snapped, her whisper fierce. "You think you can just get away with—"

"Runner Five and Mr. Yao." Janine looked over at the two, her mouth a thin, displeased line. Five and Sam looked up like disobedient schoolchildren caught eating crayons. "If you could kindly pay attention to the fact that we are about to be at war, we would all appreciate it."

Five nodded quickly, her face warm.

"We're paying attention, 'course we are," Sam stuttered. "Y'know, you were just talking about that—that beheading thing with the meat cleaver on the—"

"That will be all, Mr. Yao," Janine said primly. "Runner Eight, if you could please continue…"

Sam and Five were quiet for a moment before Five snatched one of Ten's scrap papers and a couple of pencils. She propped them up on her lap and handed a bewildered Sam one of the writing utensils.

_As I was saying, _she wrote._ The bikini comment didn't upset me._

_So what did? _Sam scribbled on the sheet.

Five bit her lip, looking up at the round table to make the others think that she and Sam were taking meticulous notes on their discussion.

_You were just being cocky about how the female runners are so grateful. Pissed me off._

_Really?_

_Yeah. You've saved my life a lot, and I am grateful for that, but you don't have to be a dick about it._

_I'm sorry. Was just joking around. Didn't mean to upset you._

_So you don't really feel that way?_

_Are you kidding? When have I ever gotten anything besides a light thank you from anyone, like Janine said?_

_True. _Five smirked. _And with comments like that, that's likely all you'll ever get._

_…That implies that there is more to be had. Potentially._

_Does it?_

Sam stopped. _Now you're confusing me._

_Doesn't take much to do that, to be honest._

Sam chuckled but stopped abruptly after a warning glare from Janine. Five took the paper and stuffed it in her backpack, folding it tightly and sticking it deep in a side pocket. There was no way in hell she was going to have Janine see _that._


	37. The Zombie Slayer's Demise, 19:1

Five awoke to the sound of Runner Eleven snoring in the bunk above her. She smirked and yawned, stretching out her only slightly tense muscles. After rolling out of bed and changing into her uniform, Five grabbed a quick breakfast and headed to Janine's home.

Inside, people were bustling around. Planning, talking, scheming urgently. Janine was in the middle of it all, calling out commands as she paced around Runner Seven, who was bent over some plans.

"Morning," Five said to Janine. "Can I help with anything?"

"Runner Five, good to see you're finally awake. We have much to do." She glanced down over Seven's shoulder, scanning the writing. "Right now, we have Runners Three and Twelve on a supply mission. We are in desperate need of more weapons. You can help Runner Ten in the armoury. I believe he needs assistance to help test some zombie avoidance strategies. Do go there now."

Five nodded and sped across Abel to the armoury, entering the fence quietly. Runner Ten was writing furiously on an old card table, muttering to himself and punching figures into an old calculator.

"Hey, Ten."

He looked up. "Morning, Five. What brings you here?"

"Janine said you needed help with some testing…?"

"Ah, wonderful. Yes, I do need a runner to help me out with this. Why don't you come sit?"

Five took the other rickety chair next to Ten and peered down over his work.

"I've been able to round up a couple of zoms for testing," he explained. "They're tied up about a kilometer from Abel, and I just need to run some experiments about the best way to kill them. What works well, what doesn't. Would you be willing to help with that?"

What was Five going to say? No? "Sure."

Soon, the runners were on their way, accompanied on the radio by a very distracted Sam, who was having trouble wrapping his mind around running two very different missions at once.

"Just—just yell or something if you need me," Sam explained. "I just—this isn't exactly easy. I've got to focus on that horde following Runner Three at the moment. Are you guys all right on your own for a bit? You're not far from Abel at all."

"We're fine, Sam," Ten reassured him. "Just focus on keeping the others safe. We'll let you know if we need anything."

With the volume turned down low so Sam's directions to the other mission were just a low chatter in the background, Five and Ten reached a small field. Three zombies were chained—with uncomfortably long chains—to a stake in the middle of the clearing. One had no legs and was dragging itself around on its stomach, leaving a rotting trail of filth behind it.

"You've given them a lot of room to move around," Five said nervously.

"Yes. We need that space to make a realistic simulation." Ten checked the papers he had tucked in his backpack. "All right, Five. There's this way the zoms have of moving. I have a theory that there's a rhythm to it. I think I can time their small movements to see if they're all moving at the same speed." He paused, scanning his notes again. "Okay. First, can you get their attention and get them all to the other side of the field? I need them to be at the end of their chains over there."

"Right." Five called out to the zombies and jogged to the other side of the field, waving her arms and generally making a scene. Of course, the undead heard her and made their way over—a little more quickly than Five was comfortable admitting—but she backed up until they were grabbing for her at the ends of their tethers. The crawler swiped at her ankles viciously.

"Okay, they're here!" she called.

"Good! Now, just disappear behind that tree for a moment, and I'll distract them." Ten dropped his papers and went to the middle of the field to the fence post where the chains were connected.

"Aren't you kind of close for that? The chains are really long."

"Don't worry, I've got this under control."

Five hesitated but then stepped behind the tree. She was out of sight. The zombies immediately turned to the new distraction—Ten, who was egging them on and tugging on the chains from the post—and stumbled over toward him.

Five peeked out from the tree, watching Ten apprehensively. He was allowing those zoms to speed up close to him. Even the crawler was fast. He stood there defiantly, an old baseball bat in hand, as they approached.

A foot away from their reaching fingers, Ten jumped out of the way and swatted one across the head; though its neck cracked, it continued shambling forward. Another zombie reached out and grasped Ten's shirt in its fingers, dragging him toward its hungry jaws.

"Ten!" Five screeched, jumping away from the trees. The zombies, distracted by the sound, hesitated and Ten quickly batted them away from his shirt.

"Five!" Ten called out, frustrated. The zombies began shambling toward Five again. "I had it under control. Please, I appreciate your concern, but in order for me to track their movements properly, they cannot be distracted!"

"That was too close!" Five protested as the zoms approached her again, safely out of reach thanks to the chains.

"This is very important," Ten replied seriously. "Please, Five, allow me to handle it."

Five sighed and vanished behind the tree again. Ten called out to the zoms, who headed toward him with a renewed vigor.

Five curled her hands in the peeling tree bark as Ten pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and scowled at the zoms. "I've got it. I've got this!"

The three zoms scrambled toward him, reaching out with their greedy hands. Ten seemed to be counting the seconds in between their steps, and he pranced out of the way just as the first reached him, managing to decapitate it with his bat. He turned to the second zom with a gleam in his eye. He swung his bat, missed the zom, and stumbled to the side—right into the clutches of the crawler.

"TEN!" Five screamed. Blood gushed from Ten's calf as the crawler sank its teeth into his flesh.

Five managed to stab the second walking zombie in the cranium with the spare hunting knife she had brought before turning to the howls of pain. With a snarl, Ten beat down on the head of the crawler, smashing its deteriorating skull to pieces.

"No!" Five gasped, horrified, her eyes stuck to the crescent-moon-shaped bite marks on Ten's leg. "No, no no!"

Ten was gazing down at himself, his eyes glazed over. Unable to comprehend what had just happened to him.

"_Sam!_" Five shrieked. "Sam, come in, do you read me?"

"Wh—what is it?" he asked, alarmed. "Five, what—"

"It's Ten! He got bitten!"

"Oh my God."

"What do I do?"

"Five," Ten said, his voice quiet. "I'm just—God, I'm so stupid. Stupid, stupid! I just—all of my research—my daughter—my daughter—!"

"Ten, I'll take you back to Abel, I can't—"

"Runner Five?" Dr. Myers's voice cut in through her panic. "Five, can you hear me?"

"Yes!"

"Bring home Ten immediately. I'm going to take a look at him."

Sam interrupted her. "But what if he—"

"I think Ten has done enough for Abel that he deserves a checkup and a last request," she replied firmly. "Five, bring him back."

"Ten, come on, we have to hurry," Five said, biting back her fear and hoisting his arm over her shoulder. "We have to go now. You can do whatever you need to in the time you have left."


	38. The Zombie Slayer's Demise, 19:2

Five stared down at the wrinkled, slightly ripped envelope in her hands. _Veronica_ was scribbled across the front in shaky handwriting, and, inside, a USB drive was safely intact. Runner Ten's last request—the retrieval of this audio recording—was in her possession, and Five had made it back to Abel.

She looked up at the comms tower to where Runner Ten lay, finally dead.

"He was waiting for you to find the envelope, Runner Five." Dr. Myers looked out at her from the comms tower. "He held out for that, and then he let go. You did good work. And he wanted to know that his daughter might have some chance of getting that recording from her mother."

Five nodded, her grip on the envelope tightening. Sam whispered, his voice hesitant.

"We've got to…"

"I know," the doctor confirmed gently. "But we can wait another few moments with the body before we do that."

Sam sighed. "I d—don't—I don't know what to—"

"It's okay. There is nothing to say."

Five tucked Veronica's envelope away in her backpack, hearing shuffling from the comms through her radio.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"We're bringing down his body now," Sam grunted.

Dr. Myers's voice was strained. "Five, please let Janine and Runner Seven know that it's time."

"On it." Five did not have to go far—everyone in Abel knew what had happened, and their faces were drawn with stress. It was either the sadness of losing a fellow Abel citizen or the anxiety of having an almost-turned member of the undead inside the gates or both. Whatever the reason, Dr. Myers, Five, Sam, and Runner Seven all carried Ten outside the gates with a tenderness and dignity usually reserved for royalty. They laid him down on the ground outside the gates and retreated, going back inside Abel. One of the snipers, Ten's good friend, had volunteered to perform the final deed, but he could not bear to take the shot right away.

No one rushed him. Some members of Abel climbed to the sniper watch posts to witness the final shot, but many remained inside the gates, close to or well into tears. Five was among those inside, standing beside her friends as she watched the sniper fiddle with the gun uncomfortably. Finally, they heard quiet groans from outside the gates, and the Abel citizens began muttering. Ten's friend wiped his face hastily, raised the gun, took a sharp shot, and all was quiet once more.

* * *

Five hated the graveyard. Stationed just behind the hospital, it reminded her of all those black-and-white zombie movies that had popped up before the real apocalypse—images of the undead striving to break free from the earth ran through her mind, bloodthirsty groans and rotted, muddy hands digging toward daylight. She knew that all the dead had been thoroughly shot through the head, but she still avoided the area as much as possible.

Runner Ten's grave was the newest. Eight had gone out and collected yet another large rock Abel could use as a gravestone. Ten's grave lay in a neat line beside the other most recent death in Abel township—Runner Five. Alice.

His gravestone read, along with the dates of his life:

_Christopher McShell_

_Scientist, Statistician, Runner, Friend and Father: A Forerunner in Solving our World Crisis_

_We Will Never Forget_

Five knelt and placed the daisies she had collected outside Abel. It didn't seem fair. With New Canton preparing to attack, never more did Abel need Runner Ten.

Five looked away from the rock bearing Runner Ten's description and looked at Alice's stone. Her grave was unnerving; alongside the other inscriptions—_Sister, Peacekeeper, Will Be Dearly Missed_—it was decorated with an elaborate _Runner 5._

Five hated looking at it. The name was different, of course. The years of her period of life. But seeing that _5 _carved so diligently into the rock gave Alice a sense of permanence—and brought a horrible sinking feeling to Five's stomach. It was as if she were looking at her own future. She could take her place here among the dearly missed and… perhaps not be so dearly missed. After all, she was the fourth Runner Five.

_Who'll be left to remember you?_

Sam's words still hurt. Even after all this time—even now that Five was not even the newest member of Abel—would they even bother to give her a grave? Would they risk running out and finding another rock to carve?

Five crouched beside Alice's grave, feeling somewhat resentful of the dead runner. Of course Alice had deserved her number on her grave; of course Alice had been so perfect and brilliant and beautiful and fast—

Well. Not fast enough.

Five did not understand the negativity she felt toward the deceased runner, but it made her stomach churn with guilt. Alice was dead. She had probably been an amazing person, just as Sam had said. Five had no business feeling… whatever she was feeling.

Before leaving, Five took one of the daisies from Ten's grave and placed it with Alice. She stood, turned, and began walking back toward the buzz of Janine's home. With New Canton on the way, there was work to do, and Five couldn't afford to become distracted.


	39. Listen In, Mission Log 20:1

Between coming to terms with New Canton's attack plan and the loss of their most intelligent and prolific zombie killer, Abel's morale was at a record low—at least, from what was in Five's memory.

"Obviously things are… are pretty scary right now," Sam commented to Five through her headset. She and Runner Eight were on a mission together, making their way warily toward New Canton. Five wore Lem's headset. "I mean… Oh, I know the Major says fear is the greatest enemy, but… I'm sort of thinking that New Canton is kicking fear's ass on that front."

As usual, Eight shrugged Sam's worries off. Ever since Five's ID had proven her innocence regarding the whole rocket launcher fiasco, Eight's icy demeanor toward Five had melted—somehow, their missions together had multiplied in number, and no one was surprised to see them together on runs on a weekly basis. Five had certainly been uncomfortable with the whole ordeal at first, but Eight's escalating friendliness had eased her worries somewhat. "I know lots of folk around the base are getting nervous, but we're going to be just fine," she insisted. "You and me, Five, gorgeous day like today, a little run. It'll be fun."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, you guys are a real Charlie's Angels combo. Oh, wait. Is that sexist, Runner Eight? You can be Mulder and Scully. I'm not saying who's who. Or like—heh—the A-Team. You pick."

Five laughed, and Eight rolled her eyes. "We're just a couple of runners, Sam."

"Gotcha," Sam backtracked. "A couple of runners. Uh—you can be the Flash and, uh—the other Flash. Y—be safe out there today, guys. We don't know what New Canton's planning, and… plus, you know, zombies."

"Can't forget about those." Eight coughed some, clearing her throat loudly. "Hey, Sam. Little ticklish throat right here. Gonna turn off my mic for a few minutes, okay?"

Sam hesitated. "Um… yeah, sure. Just, um.. well, you know, just make sure not to turn off your receiver. There've been some gnarly zoms turning up in the East. A few of those guys are wearing helmets. Makes for a pretty tough kill when they've turned."

"No problem, Sam. Just want to save you from listening to me coughing away. Give us a head's up when we're in mortal danger."

"Sure will."

Five raised an eyebrow as Eight gave another obnoxiously loud cough before turning her microphone off, reaching out and turning off Five's as well.

"What are you—"

"Okay, Five, we haven't got much time to talk." Eight took Five's arm and slowed her down to a walk. "Only have time to brief you. Never can tell who's listening on the base, so listen up." They continued a slow pace toward New Canton.

"What's going on?" Five asked, nonplussed.

"Project Greenshoot." Eight's voice dropped further. "Here it comes. What I know, anyway, which I'm sure isn't the half of it. Do you know what's going on in the outside world, Five?"

Five shook her head.

"No, sure you don't. You know what everyone knows. How to find food, how to stay alive. Seven different ways to take a zom's head off. I like a meat cleaver on a broom handle myself, but you've got to keep it sharp. But you of course heard me say that yesterday." She glanced sideways at Five.

"Of course," she lied.

"Anyway, none of us have had time to think about the bigger picture, but let me tell you something: someone's been thinking about it. There are at least five separate organizations running covert armies in this part of the world. Did you know that?"

"Five? No, I didn't."

"There's the official military, sure. Provisional government, state of emergency, dropping food and med packs where they can, not doing a bad job. Their side, the side of law and order, freedom, and, one day, democracy again. All that good stuff. But they're overstretched as it is, and they can't hold the whole country.

"Then, there are the other guys," Eight scowled. "We only know about some of them. There's some outfit in bright yellow uniforms running around the Southwest. They look like a splinter military group, but we can't be sure. Then there's a bunch of survivalist nut jobs calling themselves the Power. They hooked up with a couple of arms manufacturers in the West. They're holed up in the mountains with enough fire power to take out anyone who walks up.

"Now, the Scottish islands have been declared zom-free by CommandSys—that big tech company with fingers in everything? Those guys made a hell of a lot of money before the big gray bang, but no one unaffiliated can get in."

"Wait, wait, stop. I can't keep track of all of this," Five stammered, struggling to keep up. "The yellow uniforms and the Power are crazy, and CommandSys—"

"I know it's a lot to take in; you don't need to remember all of it," Eight rushed. "Just this: there's more than one battle in this war, and its' not just humans versus the dead. It's also humans versus humans. And Project Greenshoot? All I can tell you for now is that the military think there's something really important in Abel Township. They—Mullins—wanted you in there, gaining people's trust."

"What—how can you be sure?" Five asked skeptically. "When they sent me on that mission, they never told me that. And I lived there for quite a bit."

"So did I," she reminded Five. "Listen, what did Mullins tell you about your mission to Abel?"

"That I was only going to be there briefly," Five remembered. "Help you unpack my supplies—help you set up some shelters."

"Ah, but Abel already has residence buildings," Eight grinned. "And Mullins knew that. What else did they say?"

"That I would receive other instructions when I got there. That's when I heard the name Project Greenshoot for the first time."

"See? There you go," Eight nodded. "They wanted you to get in and gain our trust. Explore our information."

"I was supposed to be a… a mole?" Five asked, her face falling. "A traitor?"

"Why do you think I couldn't trust you?" Eight asked. "We knew Mullins wanted something from us. We just didn't know what you knew. But we learned." She chuckled. "You were as in the dark as most of the Mullins civilians. Well—you were in the dark until they decided you were smart enough to be used as a mole. Their mistake for not telling you that you were supposed to be a spy until later. Someone blew up your helo before they had the chance. And do you know what that means?"

"What?"

"Now… well. It looks like more than one group is interested, isn't there?" She paused. "You didn't shoot yourself out of the sky."

Five sighed. "But who would want to kill us?"

Eight shrugged. "Thing is, Five, how do we even find out what's happening in the world? Rofflenet, right? Set up by some genius Macmillan in someplace far away. No one knows where that guy is. But not everyone's on there. Not by a long shot. Did you know Finland's a total Rofflenet black zone? Why, all those guys are dead or… they're using something much more sophisticated. We're operating on rumors."

Sam's voice crackled urgently over the comms. "Runner Eight, Runner Five, switch your transmitters back on. We've got incoming. They're heading in fast. The ones that infected the hospital."

Five and Eight jumped, hearing groans through the trees. "Gotcha, Sam," Eight replied, flicking on her mic. "We're speeding up. You've met these zoms before, Five. Your very first run. We don't know why they run; most zoms can't do much more than stumble. But then sometimes one pack will start to run, like this. Only ever in a pack, not individually."

"They're close behind you," Sam continued. "Coming in from the right."

Five frowned. "Wait, no, I hear them from the left."

Eight glanced from side to side; the sounds were coming from all around.

"What the—" Five began.

"Are they? I know this sounds crazy, Sam, but—"

"Now they're coming in from the left!" Sam confirmed. "Come on, faster than that!"

Eight and Five took off, the groans from all around.

"Are they… in _formation?"_


End file.
